


I Know the Storms Will Always Come (But I Still Love to Have You Around)

by CouldntBeDamned



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Peter Learns the Mystic Arts, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker is of legal age, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Probable Misuse of the Mirror Dimension, Protective Stephen Strange, Protective Wanda Maximoff, Protective Wong, Stephen Strange & Wanda Maximoff Friendship, Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship, Stephen Strange Has Feelings, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22346029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldntBeDamned/pseuds/CouldntBeDamned
Summary: After Endgame, Stephen returns from another dimension to find Peter's life threatened by Quentin Beck's schemes.  He undoes the damage and takes a struggling Peter into his care.Peter needs time and a safe place to rebuild himself; Stephen's happy to provide that, even as he works to push aside the feelings he has.  It's a tricky line to walk, setting boundaries and structure for Peter while imagining those same things in a very different context.As Peter begins to come back to his usual self, personalities and wills clash, occasionally helped along by a certain Witch and a perpetually amused and exasperated Librarian.  And Stephen finds that he can't plan for everything.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Stephen Strange
Comments: 62
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

****

**1.**

* * *

Stephen's rage at Fury, SHIELD, and the rest of the Avengers could not be overstated.

They'd left Peter alone and at the mercy of a fucking alien couple who had guilted him into putting the suit on again. The Skrulls hadn't even _tried_ to contact Stephen, which made him angrier. Sure, they'd have gotten Wong instead, but Wong would have pulled Stephen out of the dimension he had been researching so he could help Peter. 

Because of their gross incompetence, Peter had been all alone against a psychopath. He'd been made to feel like a failure and a disappointment to Fury, to SHIELD, to the Avengers, and to Tony Stark's legacy. Thank goodness that Happy Hogan had been willing to listen.

The spells to undo Beck's revelation about Peter hadn’t been particularly hard to perform, just draining, and even though they worked perfectly, Stephen still wanted to keep an eye on the boy.

After speaking with Peter's aunt, he'd set up one of the bedrooms of the New York Sanctum for Peter. SHIELD and Fury weren't to be trusted; Peter staying with May was just putting them both in the crosshairs.

"You can keep him safe?” she had asked. It occurred to Stephen that she must have been terrified, having lost Peter - and herself - once already.

"I can, yes,” Stephen promised her. The Sanctum was secure to most enemies, and if the worst came to pass, Stephen could throw Peter into the Mirror Dimension or portal him off to Kamar-Taj, which was home to many of the most skilled and dangerous people Stephen had ever met.

On Titan, Stephen had searched through millions of lifetimes and futures. It had taken forever, but he'd found the one timeline where Thanos could be truly defeated. But that timeline? That one coming to pass meant that Peter would lose the one person he trusted most. And having gotten to know the boy over the course of millions of years - and coming to care for him quite a bit - Stephen had promised himself that he would protect Peter in Stark's absence.

(So, his anger at the others? He feels it at himself, as well. Actually, he feels it at himself most of all.)

Stephen soon learned he had to be cautious around Peter. Quentin Beck had traumatized the boy with his illusions and fake magic to the point where Stephen's creation of a portal to travel to the Sanctum sent Peter into a panic attack. His Cloak left his shoulders and wrapped around the shaking boy. Stephen kept his voice low as he tried to soothe him. "Hey, Peter, you're safe. You're here with me at the Sanctum and you're safe. He can't hurt you anymore. I'll never hurt you, Peter, I give you my word."

"I can't even trust my own mind right now,” Peter said quietly, miserably.

"Can you trust me?” Stephen asked softly.

Peter looked up at him with bright brown eyes and Stephen assumed he was using that spider-sense of his to figure out if he could be trusted. Then Peter nodded shakily.

"Yes."

Peter didn't leave his room very often during those first few weeks, apart from going to school or the rare outing with his friends. When he did start to venture out, he always scurried back if he happened to catch sight of Stephen, Wong, or any of the various masters doing magic. It was another couple of months before he would stay put, watching anxiously as Stephen did one spell or another. Eventually, Peter stopped seeing Stephen's magic as a threat, especially after someone tried to attack the Sanctum and Peter saw Stephen and Wong fight them off, with some help from Wanda Maximoff, who was visiting from Kamar-Taj. (Like he'd said, skilled and dangerous.)

Peter was happy to see Wanda (someone closer to his own age) and seeing her playful use of her strange red magic went a long way to relaxing Peter. Stephen wished that he could have been the one to help most on that front, but he would take what victories he could get. Wanda was a useful ally and Stephen would be a fool to get on her bad side.

"You are very focused on him,” she stated one evening. Peter had long since gone to bed and a pre-bedtime cup of tea was something of a ritual of theirs whenever she visited. "Devoted."

"I am,” Stephen confirmed. There wasn't much of a point in lying to someone who could read emotions. "Is that going to be a problem for you?” He knew his interest in Peter went beyond mere friendship and mentorship. He knew that many could judge him a predator, call his protection 'grooming,' since Peter was still in high school and he was essentially sequestered away from much of the outside world after everything with Thanos and Beck. He didn't particularly care, but Wanda might; he didn't think even he could stand against the woman who had made Thanos feel true terror.

Wanda eyed him carefully and shook her head. "If you planned on hurting him, it would be, but you would never do that."

"I'm certainly not planning on it."

"Give him time. Peter is still healing, just like the rest of us."

Stephen nodded. "Time is something I have an unlimited supply of, Wanda.” _Along with patience,_ he thought.

He gave Peter time.

He ensured that Peter was well-fed and rested, leading to an improvement in Peter's performance at school. He helped secure a better job for May Parker, giving Peter the relief of knowing that she no longer had to work herself ragged just to eke out a barely manageable living. He became a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a voice to counsel.

Eventually, Peter began to resemble the bright and energetic young man who had stowed away on an alien ship and saved Stephen's life.

Peter's natural curiosity inevitably started to show through, and he actively engaged with Stephen about the mystic arts. He was full of questions and, pleased, Stephen answered each one patiently - no matter how ridiculous or simple. "I can teach you, if you'd like,” he offered.

Peter stared at him with those gorgeous whiskey-brown eyes. "Really?"

"Of course,” Stephen said. "You're more than capable. And I'd rest easier knowing that you'll have another way to defend yourself."

Peter looked confused. "I heal, though."

Stephen gave him a patient smile. "You may heal, Peter, but I don't want you to hurt."

(At least, not in a way that wouldn’t ultimately bring Peter pleasure the boy couldn't even begin to imagine. But that was a long way off, Stephen knew. If ever.)

Not wanting to overwhelm him, Stephen started taking Peter into the mirror dimension, so the boy could sling around as Spider-Man and train without fear of harming himself or others.

Peter took to learning magic with the kind of eagerness that Stephen himself had displayed. Wong and Wanda insisted on helping, and Peter soaked in the attention, discipline, and praise from the trio of teachers. It was hard, with his lessons limited due to high school, but Stephen had promised that once Peter graduated, he would be able to spend more time on his lessons. They would have all the time in the world.

"Why can't you just do that hand-wavy time stuff and give us a few more hours to practice?” Peter asked one afternoon. He held a book close to his chest, not wanting to hand it back to Stephen.

"Education is important, Peter,” Stephen insisted. "And it's one of the conditions set by your Aunt when she agreed to let you live here. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"

It's a dirty move, he knew, but Stephen had never claimed to be a good man.

Peter grudgingly shook his head, rolled his eyes, and pulled out his AP Calculus homework even as Stephen took away _A Portent Compendium_.

"Don't be a brat, Peter, you're better than that,” Stephen said. "Suck it up and do your homework, or there won't be any mystic arts lessons this weekend."

(He hoped there would be time for Peter to be a brat later. In Stephen's bed. If that came to pass, he would enjoy turning Peter's bratty behavior sweet.)

Peter met his eyes. "Sorry,” He turned his attention to his homework.

Pleased with Peter's compliance, Stephen had Wanda place an order for food from Peter's favorite Thai place. He himself wasn't so hungry, but there was a part of him that enjoyed providing for Peter.

Peter scowled at his work and let out a sigh, banging his head against the desk. "I'm never going to get this right."

Stephen stopped him before he could bang his head again. "Peter,” he scolded. "You keep insisting you're not a child, so act like it."

Peter frowned. "I saw you do the same thing last week!” he protested.

Sometimes Stephen hated how observant Peter was; especially since it usually involved one of his less dignified moments. "And I had a headache afterwards, so maybe don't use me as a role model for everything.” It wasn’t exactly a lie - he _did_ have a headache afterwards, but not from banging his head against his desk in exasperation. (One of the students at Kamar-Taj accidentally summoned an inter-dimensional hell beast.) It was simply a stretching of the truth. He'd _never_ outright lie to Peter.

"I don't even want to go to college anymore, so I just feel like this is useless,” Peter finally said. "And I don't understand how to solve this problem, but I have to solve it in order to solve the rest because they build on each other! And it's not like I could even ask questions in class, since Flash wouldn't stop kicking my chair. Then Mr. Reynolds yelled at me for being disruptive when I told Flash to stop, and I also have Spanish homework, too, and we have a substitute teacher this week and she's rubbish and Ned won't get off my back about having Spider-Man make an appearance at the end of year dance and MJ isn't talking to me because I don't want to go to a protest with her next month and-"

Stephen stopped Peter's tirade with a hand across his mouth. "Calm down."

Peter sighed and let his body go lax

"Good boy.” Stephen took his hand away. Peter looked stressed and miserable, and Stephen wanted to portal off, ensure that every person causing Peter's distress felt double his misery. As it was, Peter wouldn't like that, so he would have to refrain for the time being.

Stephen started with the easiest task. "What is it you don't understand, hmm? I was fairly decent with calculus. Maybe I can help.” The other things, like that miscreant named Flash... he would get to those in his own time.

"It's this differential thing,” Peter said.

"Explain it to me,” Stephen suggested.

Peter did and Stephen could see in the boy's eyes when things start sliding into place. By the time Peter got to his question, he had already started writing out his work. When he solved it (and Stephen confirmed that yes, he was correct), Peter beamed at him.

"Let's get the others out of the way, shall we?” Stephen invited. _In more ways than one,_ he added internally.

Soon the calculus was done and over with and Peter started in on his Spanish homework. There was not much Stephen needed to help him with, just the odd conjugation here and there.

When all of Peter's homework was finished, Stephen portaled them into the dining room, where Wong and Wanda were already eating. It was wonderful that Peter didn’t flinch at the magic the way he used to. Peter helped himself to the Thai food and immediately started joking with Wanda, who was due to return to Kamar-Taj that coming Sunday to continue training with Master Genman. She would be gone until Peter's graduation in a few weeks, so Stephen didn’t begrudge the pair their little inside jokes and reluctance to engage with Stephen and Wong. He wanted Peter to have friends that understood him and the life he led; Wanda was definitely someone who did. She was also protective of him, which Stephen appreciated. So long as she didn’t overstep her boundaries with Peter, Stephen was happy to see the friendship to flourish.

After dinner, Stephen asked Peter to join him in his study. There he made a cup of tea for himself and hot chocolate for Peter. The boy seriously needed to de-stress and Stephen was irate with himself for not noticing... and a little upset with Peter for not confiding in him. Hadn't Stephen proven that he would take care of Peter? Either way, there was little point in opening them up to an argument.

"Tell me about this young man at school who gives you a hard time,” he ordered.

Peter sighed. "His name is Flash, and he seems to enjoy making my life difficult."

"Does he just kick your chair?"

"Sometimes. Other times it's just him calling me 'Penis Parker' or shoving me into lockers."

 _That_ made him furious. "He gets physical?"

Peter frowned. "Not all the time. Look, it's been happening since middle school and I graduate in a few weeks, so it doesn’t matter."

"Yes, Peter, it does matter. People shouldn't be putting their hands on you, especially not in school."

"I can't stop him,” Peter said simply. "I couldn't throw a punch before the bite and I definitely can't do it now."

"And I take it you haven't asked for help from the teachers or principal?"

Peter shook his head. "If they don't see it, they can't do anything. And if they do, Flash's parents have enough money to make anything go away."

"How often has that happened?"

"Twice. One time he pushed me down the stairs, but he insisted it was an accident. And the other time was after I got bit and he swung into me on the climbing ropes in gym class and I fell. Since I had no bruising the next day and he claimed it was another accident, nothing happened except I had to take the physical assessment again."

Stephen was going to ruin that little twerp's life. "I need you to tell me if it happens again, Peter."

"It's not that big of a de-"

"I wasn't making a request, Peter,” Stephen said sternly. "You'll tell me, and I'll handle it. It's one thing for you to be injured while Spider-Man. It shouldn't happen when you're in school where you're supposed to be safe."

"You're really gung-ho about school, aren't you?” Peter asked, with far more snark than Stephen cared for.

"You're going to want to watch your tone with me, Peter,” he said. "I don't like you sniping at me for something as basic as looking after your well-being."

Peter rolled his eyes and oh, that had been the wrong thing to do.

When Peter went to take another drink of his hot chocolate, it was gone. "What?!” He glared at Stephen accusingly.

"Brats don't get hot chocolate,” Stephen said, face giving away nothing.

"I'm not a brat!” Peter argued. "You're just being a controlling dick!"

"And it's time for you to go to your room and go to bed, since you're obviously too tired to be an adult about any of this at the moment.” Oh, he wished they were at the point where he could put Peter over his knee, but It wasn’t time for that yet.

"You can't just send me to b-"

With a bored expression, Stephen waved his hand and Peter was portaled sans phone into his now-electronics-free bedroom. The doors and windows were sealed shut. He could hear Peter's shouts of outrage from his study and he merely sighed. _Teenagers._

He turned his attention to some of his darker books. The spell would be easy enough, along with enchanting a relic. The tricky part would be ensuring it ended up in Flash's hands. It would be an effective means of handling the boy for now; physical and emotional pain he inflicted on others would return on him, doubled. He would have to do some research on Flash to see where he could really hit him.

He found himself angry with Peter's friends. Peter hadn't had much joy in being Spider-Man since Beck's attempt at a ruination. Surely Ned should have realized that? If not, then perhaps it was good that he would be going to college on the opposite coast. And MJ... why on earth did she think that Peter would be remotely interested in spending a day in large crowds with the noise and smells when his senses were so highly attuned? Stephen could appreciate activism, especially the cause she was supporting, but she should know Peter and his needs better than that.

He couldn’t outright voice this to Peter. Peter was in a bad mood and angry at the world and anything Stephen said will simply upset him further. He might just mention something to Wanda; Peter would at least listen to her.

And if Peter continued to be a sulking little brat... well, Stephen would reign the boy in. Peter might be the center of his world, but he wasn't going to let him be a dick. If lighting up the boy's ass was what it took, then Stephen would just have to find a way to show Peter there was a difference between pain for punishment and pain for pleasure.

In the morning, Peter was freed from his bedroom and came down to eat breakfast. Stephen was waiting for him. Peter ducked his head. "I'm sorry for being such a pain last night. You're just looking out for me and I shouldn't have snapped the way I did."

"Thank you,” Stephen said. He was really quite pleased. "Would you like French toast or pancakes? I've already made you an omelet, it's on the counter."

"French toast,” Peter said. "And can I have coffee?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "I'll pour you half a mug,” he granted. Peter's spider metabolism did odd things with coffee, so Stephen generally tried to limit his intake at the Sanctum. "Have as much water, milk, or orange juice as you'd like."

"Awesome!"

Peter sat at the counter, pulling at the plate that had been enchanted to keep the omelet warm and dug in, moaning happily at the taste. It wasn’t long before Wanda and Wong were drawn in by the scent of coffee and bacon and the four ate together in peace before Stephen returned Peter's phone and portaled him a block away from school.

"Remember what we talked about last night,” Stephen reminded him.

Peter nodded. "I will. I promise."

Peter sent Stephen little updates when he had a free minute between classes: He chose a seat as far away from Flash as he could manage, and Mr. Reynolds had explained a new concept for Peter when he was confused. The substitute Spanish teacher had collected their homework and played a movie with the audio in Spanish since it was Friday. Peter had ended up sitting with some of his old friends from marching band at lunch, since MJ was still giving him the cold shoulder and Ned was still upset with him for not wanting to attend the end of year dance as Spider-Man. He said he was looking forward to the weekend and practicing magic with Stephen.

Peter sent him another message, just before school was supposed to end.

_No decathlon practice today. Mind if I go see Aunt May?_

Stephen considered. It would give him the chance to check in at Kamar-Taj and the other Sanctums. He couldn't exactly keep Peter from seeing his aunt, nor did he want to; she was a lovely woman.

**_Please be home by 9. Enjoy your visit and tell your aunt I said hello._ **

There. That was reasonable.

_THNX!!!_

It took so little to make Peter happy. Sometimes that fact broke Stephen's heart.

He had one of the students at Kamar-Taj - a former IT specialist - hack into the records at Peter's school. Soon Stephen knew Eugene "Flash” Thompson's grade point average, locker number, college prospects, social activities, disciplinary records, and living situation. He excused himself and portaled into the school and placed the watch in the kid's locker. When he came back, he instructed the woman at the computer to wipe the records of what she'd done. "It's to keep Peter safe,” Stephen told her. She nodded; everyone at Kamar-Taj liked Peter.

When Stephen was done with observing some training drills at Kamar-Taj and checking in with the other Sanctums, it was 8:30 pm in New York so he returned home to wait for Peter.

9:00 pm came. No Peter.

He checked his phone; no message from Peter explaining that he was running late.

9:05 pm. No Peter. 9:10 pm. No Peter. 9:15 pm. No Peter. 9:30 pm. 9:45 pm. 10:00 pm. 10:30 pm. 11:00 pm. No Peter. No calls. No messages. Nothing.

Anger battled with worry battled with fear. It wasn’t like Peter to not check in. He checked the news and Spider-Man hadn't made an appearance, so the one good excuse Stephen would accept was out the window. Visions of Peter being abducted flew through his mind, of Peter getting into a fight where he couldn’t fight back because he would seriously injure or even kill someone.

Stephen checked with Wong and Wanda; neither had seen or heard from Peter.

Then, at 12:04 am, Stephen's phone rang. Peter.


	2. Chapter 2

****

**2.**

* * *

  
He answered the ringing phone, voice nearly shaking in rage. “Hello?”

“Hey, D-doctor Stephen!” Stephen closed his eyes; Peter was alive, and it wasn’t some random person calling the main contact from a corpse’s phone. “I know I’m late, but I ran into this really cute guy and he walked me to a club, and we had a couple of drinks and now I feel kind of funny.” Peter’s voice was slurred.

Oh, he and Peter would definitely be having words. 

He spoke deliberately, keeping his voice steady. “Where are you?”

“I think I’m, uh, hang on.” Stephen heard Peter ask loudly “ _What’s this place called?”_ and then he returned to the phone. “It’s called Purgatory. And I think I shouldn’t be here, you know? I’ve already been there.”

He ignored the pang he felt at Peter’s mention of the Snap. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a moment.” Stephen ended the call and looked up to see Wong and Wanda looking very amused. Great.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Wanda said. “He’s still a teenager and he was bound to do something stupid sooner or later.” Wong nodded his agreement, which only annoyed Stephen.

“We’ll see,” he said, promising them nothing. The look in Wanda’s eyes told him that she’d read his thoughts and he heard her voice in his mind. _Don’t do anything while you’re angry._

That he understood. He nodded at her and portaled to Purgatory.

When he stepped into the club his ears were assaulted by horrible, tinny music and he had to blink several times to gain his bearings.

“You’re here!” Peter cried out, stumbling in his rush to get over to him. He flung his arms around Stephen’s neck, forced to stand on his toes as he hung on as if Stephen was the only thing keeping him upright. He looked over his shoulder. “Harry! Come met Stephen, he’s the best!” Peter looked up at Stephen, clearly under the influence of _something_.

Stephen saw the man Peter was speaking to. He was maybe in his early 20s, with dark hair and dark eyes with a brutality in them that instantly had Stephen wanting to send him to a hell dimension. And this Harry clearly wasn’t pleased that Stephen had shown up.

“Who are you, his dad?” the guy asked with a sneer.

Peter unlocked his arms from Stephen’s neck and turned to face Harry. “No, Stephen’s my-” he paused as if searching for the right word. Then his face lit up as if he had just figured out something brilliant in his drugged stupor. “We’re in cahoots! He’s great and he keeps me safe. He’s kind of strict sometimes, though. I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get home.” He stopped and looked back at Stephen. “I didn’t mean to say that. I feel so weird right now.”

Stephen looked from Peter to the shifty set of Harry’s eyes. Then he gestured to open the Eye and time stopped. He took his time searching Harry’s pockets, memorizing his ID (Osborn, Harold) and identifying the GHB vials - two filled, three emptied. He poured the two vials in the drink Harry was holding.

A few years ago, he would have never done such a thing, after the oath he solemnly swore. Even after fighting Kaecilius and his heretics, he did his best to keep that path. But since meeting Peter, and Titan, and everything that had followed… he’d allowed himself some flexible interpretation of that oath. It wouldn’t kill the man, but it would make him miserable.

When he was finished, Stephen stepped back and canceled the spell, the Eye closing itself and returning to its hiding place under Stephen’s shirt.

“Ready to come home, Peter?” Stephen asked him.

Peter nodded eagerly, swaying into Stephen, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “’m tired. It’s way too late.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry protested. “We were just starting to have fun! Stay a bit!”

Peter looked at Harry. “No,” he said, words still slurring. “I don’t want to. I wanna go home with Stephen. He’s home.”

Oh, hearing that did things to Stephen.

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like this?” Harry looked livid.

Stephen glared at Harry. “No does mean no, Mr. Osborn.” He tightened his arm around Peter, and ushered him out of the club, glancing back briefly to see Harry down his now-tainted drink. _Good._

He might check news or police reports in the morning to see if this Harry got into any more trouble, he may not. Everything was going to depend on what happened when he got Peter back home, where he belonged.

Three 40mg vials of GHB. 

A regular human would be dead. It was only due to Peter’s spider metabolism that he only had the slurred speech, clumsiness, and the sleepiness. If he’d been dosed with even half of one of the other vials… he held Peter close to him as he portaled them back to the Sanctum.

Wong and Wanda were nowhere in sight. Good. He didn’t think he could keep himself calm if he had to see Wong’s amused face or Wanda’s knowing looks at that moment.

Stephen set Peter gently down on the little sofa in his study. Then he performed a detox spell and watched as Peter became more alert. It took another round of the spell before he was satisfied that Peter was back to normal, no GHB or alcohol left in his system. Then he let himself breathe for a moment, secure in the knowledge that Peter was safe once more.

“Do I have to leave?” Peter asked quietly.

The question had him frowning. “What?”

“I keep causing you trouble. Are you going to make me move out?”

There was a vulnerability to Peter that reminded Stephen of how insecure Peter sometimes was. Peter had told him everything about being recruited by Stark and the months that had followed when he’d been treated as little more than a pest rather than a person with thoughts, feelings, and a desire to help. (Stephen’s phrasing - not Peter’s. Peter was still far too worshipful of the late Tony Stark to see how poorly he had been treated. A building _dropped_ on him for fuck’s sake!) Stephen knew that the mentorship had improved, had seen the care and worry Stark had had for Peter - the man had been more than a little smitten. But Stark wasn’t there, and Stephen was.

“You cause me worry, not trouble,” Stephen said.

“So, you don’t want me to leave?” Peter asked, hopeful.

“No,” Stephen confirmed. “I don’t want you leave.” _I never want you to leave,_ he thought.

Peter looked at him, really _looked_ at him. “But you’re upset, so what _do_ you want?”

So many things. Stephen wanted so many things with, from, and for Peter. Things that scared him sometimes. He couldn’t lie to Peter, so he went with his honest thought in the moment.

“What I want is to put you over my knee and turn that disobedient ass red.” He had said it. He couldn’t take it back even if he wanted to.

Peter was quiet, still looking at him. Then, “Okay.”

Stephen tilted his head; not quite sure he’d heard correctly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. 

After a few moments of processing, Stephen crouched down in front of him, wanting to be sure the boy understood what this meant. “You know I never want to hurt you, right? I promised you that I wouldn’t. This is a punishment for breaking the rules, not beating you senseless in a rage.”

Peter nodded. “I get it,” he said. “I didn’t do what I supposed to do.”

“You could have died,” Stephen said, figuring telling Peter would keep his own anxiety away from the blows he planned to land on Peter’s backside. “He slipped three vials of GHB in alcohol you should never have been drinking in the first place. A regular human would have died from that. If he’d slipped you even one of the remaining two, I could have lost you.”

“I really messed up,” Peter said quietly, and the look of disgust he had for himself was nearly painful for Stephen to see.

“You made a mistake. We all make them.” He briefly recalled a night when he paid more attention to his phone than the road. “The consequences of some mistakes are worse than others.”

“And this won’t be permanent?” Peter asked.

“No. It’ll be done, and we’ll move on.”

“You won’t hate me?”

It was all Stephen could do to keep from gathering Peter into his arms and holding him close for the time being. “I couldn’t hate you, not ever,” he said instead.

“So, how does this work?”

It was really going to happen.

Stephen stood, towering over Peter who still sat on the couch. He looked nervous but determined. A small part of Stephen was humbled that Peter was trusting him so much. Another small part was still furious with Peter for ignoring the simple instruction to be home by 9 and thus endangering himself. But mostly, Stephen was amazed that it was actually happening.

“Stand up and pull your pants down, along with whatever is underneath,” he ordered. He could have told Peter to just remove them, but he wanted Peter to feel the humiliation of knowing they’ll have to be pulled back up, like this was a task he’d bothered Stephen into doing.

Peter did as Stephen instructed and Stephen kept his eyes above his chest, despite how badly he wanted to look down and see the cock he knew would be as perfect as the rest of Peter. No, it wasn’t anything sexual; that could come later, when Peter had settled even further into Stephen’s care and keeping. Stephen sat down in his chair behind the desk and motioned Peter over. Peter’s steps were unsure, and he was taking far too long for such a simple task. “Now.” Stephen voice was stern as he gave the order. “Don’t make this worse on yourself.” It had the desired effect; Peter was before him in an instant. “Lay across my lap.” Peter did so with some fumbling. Outside of making sure that Peter was in a safe position (he’d seen too many impact play cases gone wrong in his ER resident days) Stephen didn’t do much to steady him or help; he wanted to reinforce to Peter that he had agreed to this, accepted it as his due. (Later, when it wasn’t punishment but play and pleasure Stephen would guide him and touch him and reassure him. If that ever happened.)

When Peter was settled, Stephen ran a hand over the bare ass on his lap, tracing a spell that would keep the pain there, keep any markings from fading for a few days. Peter’s super-human healing wasn’t going to aid him, not in this. “How many do you think you deserve?” Stephen questioned; curious what Peter would answer.

Peter lifted his head to look at Stephen and there was a helpless sort of look in his eyes. “However many you think I deserve.”

Heat raced through him; Peter wasn’t trying to get out of a punishment. He genuinely wanted Stephen to decide. And this first time, he would.

“Twenty, I think. I’ll check in with you after ten. Let me know if you can continue by saying ‘green’ or if you need to stop by saying ‘red.’ Understood?”

Peter nodded. “Green to continue, red to stop.”

“Good. Now, it’s important you stay just like this.” Stephen pushed his head down, forcing him to look at the ornate rug. He channeled magic into his hands to keep them steady and waited a bit, knowing that for Peter the anticipation of not knowing would make the punishment more effective. Then he raised his hand and brought it down on to Peter’s ass with a loud _SMACK_!

Peter cried out, his voice echoing loudly in the study. Stephen brought his hand down again, and again, each with no small amount of force and each drawing a similar pained sound. Spanks four, five, and six came in rapid succession as did Peter’s cries. His ass was already the most brilliant shade of red. He could hear Peter struggling to control his breathing and rested for just a moment. Then he aimed his next two blows on the sensitive area where back thighs met buttocks and Peter _screamed_. Nine and ten returned to his ass and Stephen rubbed the red cheeks soothingly.

“That’s ten, Peter. How are you doing?”

Peter was sobbing and he stuttered out a “G-gr-green, Stephen.”

Stephen was impressed, he would have understood if Peter had said red. He was impressed that Peter hadn’t tried to get away, that he was taking the punishment without protest. He sat for a bit, still rubbing. He could see the imprints of his hand on Peter’s usually pale skin and he was deeply satisfied. His ass would be bruised by the time this is over.

Stephen left one hand on Peter and brought the other down, harder than any of the previous blows. Peter cried out again and Stephen delivered four more, at the back of his thighs and rubbed when Peter screamed and went completely limp. He was still conscious, and Stephen continued. Five more. He alternated areas, leaving the last two - one on each bruised cheek. Peter didn’t cry out, just emitted pained whimpers.

“That’s twenty. You’re done, Peter.” He carefully helped Peter stand and pull up the pants and boxers that were around his feet. Then he gathered him into his arms, careful not to jostle any of the smarting skin. He held Peter close and rubbed his shoulders, arms, and back in as soothing a way as he can manage. Peter was crying, little sobs and he was shaking. “Hey, hey now, you’re okay, Peter, you’re okay. Your punishment’s over and you did so well; I’m so proud of you.”

Peter continued to cry, but he held tight onto Stephen. He continued to rub Peter’s back, letting Peter release all the pent-up emotions he must have been feeling. “Everything’s going to be okay, Peter. It’s all over and I’m not upset anymore. You were so good for me.”

“I wasn’t,” Peter said, voice rough with tears. “I was bad, I’m so bad.”

“Hey, hey, it’s done. You’re not bad, Peter.”

Slowly, Peter came back to him. His grip didn’t loosen on Stephen’s shirt, but his crying stopped and there was only some sniffling. When Peter finally looked up at him, there was hope in his gaze. “You’re not mad?”

Stephen looked down at him, sure that Peter would see the adoration in his eyes. “No, Peter, I’m not mad.” He sat up, still mindful of the bruised ass he’d spanked. “Let’s get you up to bed, hmm?”

Peter nodded and Stephen carried him up the stairs rather than conjuring a portal.

“Do you want a shower?” he asked. He’d prefer Peter take a bath, but his backside against the tub walls would bring him more pain than Stephen would want, and he doubted that Peter would want Stephen to join and hold him.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Peter said.

Stephen stood in the hall, still holding Peter. “Do you want to use your bathroom? Or do you want to use mine?” _Please say mine,_ he thought.

Peter took his time answering. “Mine, I think. And alone.”

Stephen understood - he _did_ \- but the idea of Peter alone in the aftermath of his punishment didn’t sit well with him. “After you shower, I’m going to rub some salve on you and then I’ll leave you to your sleep.”

Reluctantly, Peter nodded.

“I need words,” Stephen prompted softly.

“I understand,” Peter said.

Stephen set Peter down, keeping the boy steady. He let Peter open the door, giving him this small bit of control in the aftermath. He followed Peter into his room, taking in its state. It was a typical room for a geeky, nerdy teenager. There were posters for Star Wars and a few LEGO models and several knickknacks with science puns. All of that was in addition to the many, many posters of Iron Man. And in a prominent place on Peter’s nightstand, there was a picture of Peter and Tony Stark.

He wished he could remain immune to jealousy over that fact. But he _was_ jealous.

Either way, this wasn’t about him. It was about taking care of Peter. So, he did. “Take your shower, relax. I’m going to get the salve and some water for you. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” He _really_ didn’t want to leave Peter for that long, but he wasn’t going to push it.

He grabbed the salve, shoving the tin in his pocket and then actually walked to the kitchen. He made a cup of tea, stopping time so he could calm himself and enjoy it. Part of him wondered if he’d just monumentally screwed up everything good in his life by actually punishing Peter. 

Banishing him to his room for being a moody brat was one thing. This time, he had actually _physically_ punished him. That Peter had _let_ him – and it _had_ been Peter letting him, he knew Peter could have put him through the damn wall if he’d been so inclined – did little to soothe his worry. He didn’t want Peter to be afraid of him; the boy had enough people to fear in his life. Stephen was going to have to reassure Peter, show that he was still someone who could be trusted to never hurt him.

He finished his tea and unfroze time. Then he poured a glass of juice and grabbed some bottled water from the fridge. He debated for a moment and decided to slice up some fruit. He was sure Peter hadn’t eaten in hours.

When he arrived back in Peter’s room, knocking for the sake of Peter’s ease of mind, Peter was standing by his bed, towel covering him from the waist down. His hair was a shabbily dried mess of curls and Stephen hoped that one day he would get to play with them.

“I tried to sit, but-”

“It’s okay,” Stephen said. He set the plate and glass of juice, along with the bottled water, on the nightstand. If he happened to block the picture of Peter and Stark, well… he would never admit it was on purpose. He pulled the tin of salve out of his pocket. “This will help. I also brought you a snack; you should try to eat it, if you can. At the very least, drink the water.”

Peter nodded. Then, very quietly, asked “do I have to lay across your lap for this?”

Stephen almost laughed. “No. Just lay out on the bed and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Peter did as Stephen said, keeping himself covered until he was lying and then shimmying the towel off. Stephen gave a small smile at the boy’s modesty. (There was so little left to the imagination when he wore his Spider-Man suit.) Stephen sat on the bed when Peter was laid out and opened up the tin of salve. He scooped some out and carefully began to rub it into Peter’s ass.

Even with the healing factor Peter had, Stephen could see the heavy bruising. He was every bit as focused and methodical with the task as he used to be when performing surgery. He needed to demonstrate that his hands could be as gentle as they can be hard. He could feel Peter relax as he worked the mixture in, no doubt aided by the lavender in the mix. It was when Peter sighed that Stephen knew the boy wasn’t afraid of him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Peter, once he’d put the lid back on the tin and handed Peter his towel so he could get up and pick out something to sleep in.

“Tired and sore, but I’ll feel better in the morning,” Peter answered, pulling on a pair of loose Hello Kitty pants and a threadbare t-shirt informing the reader that ‘If you’re not a part of the solution, you’re a part of the precipitate.’

“It’ll take a couple of days before the bruises fade, but the pain won’t be as bad,” Stephen said, standing.

“Magic?” Peter asked, with a small sound that might have been a laugh. He grabbed an orange slice from the small plate and bit in.

“Yes,” Stephen freely admitted. “Otherwise your healing would take over and there’d be little point to the punishment.”

“I guess modern problems require modern solutions,” Peter said lightly, before draining the glass of juice.

Stephen groaned, recognizing the meme.

“Stephen? Are we okay?” Peter asked, sitting on the bed, fruit plate in hand.

Stephen busied himself with uncapping one of the water bottles and handing it to him. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said in lieu of answering. He didn’t like feeling so vulnerable.

“I think so?” Peter said, more question than statement. “I mean, I know I screwed up and that sometimes I’m more trouble than I’m worth, but I do-”

Stephen cut him off by sitting back on the bed. “You’re not trouble, and you’re not a burden.”

“I almost died,” Peter said quietly. “I did die, before, but that was part of the hero gig, and Mr. Stark and the others brought me back. This was… this was just a bad man wanting bad things. And I didn’t even want to think about why my senses were going off, because I just wanted to feel normal for a while.”

“Is that why you didn’t come home?”

Peter nodded. “I was leaving Aunt May’s when I ran into him. He offered to take me to a bar and all I could think was that in another life, I’d still be going out with friends and being a normal, stupid teenager who runs into hot guys who I should probably avoid. I wouldn’t be on the lookout for danger or crime or the next alien invasion. And I wanted it, just for a bit.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry I’m so ungrateful.”

Stephen lifted his head up by the chin. “I don’t think you’re ungrateful.” He considered. “You can always talk to me, or Wanda, or even Wong about what you’re feeling. We haven’t exactly been the best about remembering that you also had a life before all of this. If you feel stifled or like you just need a night to be normal, you can tell us, and we’ll work it out.”

Peter asked him to stay, which surprised him. “Just, you know, until I fall asleep.”

Stephen nodded. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Do I still get to practice magic tomorrow?”

He considered. “I think that would be a good way of taking your mind off of things. Wong’s been looking for help in the library.”

Peter’s elated smile dimmed a bit; Wong, while a wonderful teacher, funny, and cool to hang out with, was very, very strict about the books.

“And, if you can suffer through a few hours with him, I’ll portal us to Kamar-Taj, and you can try your hand at learning a conjuring spell.”

Peter beamed, and then set the empty bottle of water on the nightstand. Then he settled back on the bed and the sight of him relaxing was fairly mesmerizing. After a few seconds, however, Peter shifted to lay on his front.

“Go to sleep, and I’ll wake you in the morning,” Stephen advised, setting himself in the extremely uncomfortable chair at Peter’s desk (and making a mental note to replace it).

It didn’t take long for Peter to drift off and when he checked the time, he saw that it was nearly 3:30am. He stopped time except for the room and gave Peter a few hours extra to sleep. He could have kept the usual schedule and let Peter deal with the lack of sleep his poor judgment wrought, but a tired, cranky Peter was a nightmare to deal with and he’d already been punished. When he was satisfied, he unfroze time and stepped out, determined to get some sleep of his own.

Wanda was waiting for him, astrally, by his bedroom door. “How is he?” she asked.

“His backside’s going to hate him for a couple of days, but otherwise he’s fine.”

Wanda nodded, sympathy in her eyes as she looked in the direction of Peter’s room. “And how are _you_?”

“Tired,” he answered honestly. “Mentally, physically, and probably a few other -ly’s I’m forgetting at the moment.”

“You’ll be okay, you know? The two of you.”

He looked sharply at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Wanda shrugged. “He adores you. You’ve become a constant, grounding presence in his life.”

“That sounds fake, but okay,” Stephen said wearily.

“I wouldn’t lie about this,” Wanda said. “He looks up to you.”

“Great,” Stephen muttered. “I’m a father figure to him.” He supposed he would have to learn to deal.

Wanda snorted. “Trust me, the last thing he sees you as is a father.” 

“Dick-head uncle?” he offered.

She shook her head at him the way one would a dim puppy. “There’s a reason he’s so happy living here with you.”

“Magic? Wong’s incredible skills in the kitchen?”

Wanda stifled a giggle. “More like that steely gaze and seductive presence of yours. And the structure you give him, the boundaries? They make him feel safe.” She paused, as if debating her next words. “And a little turned on,” she added.

Stephen’s heart lifted at her words. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words,” she admitted. “But the emotions are there, and the body language.” Again, the dim puppy look. “You might have noticed if you weren’t so focused on the future with him you want. You can’t plan for everything; you just need to let it happen.”

Stephen knew this was a flaw of his. He had been told so many, many times. His parents had tried to convince him to let loose, to no avail. Every girlfriend, too. And Christine. And the Ancient One.

“I’ve never been the best at just letting go.”

“Try,” was all she offered. “It may turn out better than you think. I’m going back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Wanda’s form floated off, and Stephen sighed.

What a night.


	3. Chapter 3

****

**3.**

* * *

The morning came, as it always did. Stephen had managed roughly four hours of sleep - the height of luxury for him since taking over as the Sorcerer Supreme. He pulled himself out of bed and set about getting ready.

He showered, had his usual mid-shower stress release, and dried himself off with a towel helpfully provided by Cloak. He carefully trimmed his beard and then rubbed a cream into his hands to keep the skin supple and the scars from tightening too much. He dressed casually in jeans and a henley before putting the Eye in its place around his neck.

It was nearly 9:00 when he entered the kitchen, to see that Wanda had cooked breakfast for herself and an already-awake Peter and was entertaining him with a story from when she was a child in Sokovia. Peter was laughing and _fuck_ it was so nice to hear him laugh. Stephen would just have to give Peter more reason to, moving forward.

“And then Pietro and I switched clothes, because we were convinced that if we did, our parents wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.” Wanda smiled fondly. “They actually went along with it for the rest of the evening, until we were actually scared we’d have to stay like that permanently.”

“That’s adorable,” Peter said. “I wish I could have had a brother or sister.”

Stephen could understand that desire. He’d loved his brother and sister deeply before they both died. His sister Donna had drowned one summer while he was in residency and his brother Victor had been hit by a speeding car while trying to cross the road a few years into Stephen’s surgical career. They hadn’t been the closest, since their father had had little time for frivolity and feelings. Looking back, Stephen wished he could have been a better brother.

“You have an older sister,” Stephen told Peter as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He motioned to Wanda. “Unless I’ve completely misread the situation.” He sips his coffee, not bothering to hide the teasing smile.

Wanda laughed at Peter’s horrified grimace. “I lost one Pietro and gained another,” she agreed with Stephen. Then she nudged Peter’s shoulder with her own. “You need a _sestra_.”

Almost shyly, Peter grinned. “And I’m sure you’re happy to be the older sister for once.”

It was a sickeningly domestic moment and he felt the creep of a mild panic. He cleared his throat. “Have you spoken with Wong, about helping in the library today?” He asked.

“Wong left on personal business. He said he would be back later this evening,” Wanda answered.

The disappointment Peter had at that was visible. His smile faded. He seemed to shrink in on himself upon realizing there would be no practicing magic that day

“I think I’ll start writing my paper for my humanities class,” he said. “It’s not like I have much of a life outside of school anyways.” He got up and rinsed his plates and fork before leaving.

Stephen sighed as he watched him go.

“You need to reassure him,” Wanda said. “And for the love of all that’s good, stop bothering him about school. He’s already at the top of his class; it’s not as if he’s going to fail anything these next two weeks.”

“Keeping him in school is one of the biggest reasons why Mrs. Parker agreed to let him live here,” Stephen argued.

“But it’s not her decision, is it? Peter is 18 and legally an adult. She couldn’t stop him.” _And you know that,_ she added in his mind.

Sometimes Stephen hated how astute Wanda was.

Stephen decided to give Peter his space. He was obviously upset and while the last thing Stephen wanted to do was reward sulky behavior, he could understand Peter’s frustration. To be stuck in something as mundane high school after having died, come back, and saved the world had to be terribly boring. Stephen and the others all had lives that were so entwined in their abilities and heroics (though he shunned the term hero for himself) that such normal things weren’t even an option.

Peter had said he wanted to be normal for a just a bit, the night before, and he clearly didn’t include homework in his definition of “normal”. What he did clearly include in his definition was getting chatted up by attractive older men. For all that Osborn had been a creep, he had been extremely good looking, as well. And older.

In his anger at and worry for Peter the previous night, he hadn’t realized just how _jealous_ he’d been. And wasn’t that just great? He was supposed to be better than that.

He’d told himself that of he ever pursued Peter, it would be after he’d graduated. Graduated _what_ , exactly, he hadn’t made his mind up. He didn’t want to keep Peter from having his own life. But he did desperately want to be part of Peter’s life.

Stephen couldn’t help but feel like Wanda was wrong, and that Peter had lied when he’d said that they were okay after last night. He couldn’t logically see how he _hadn’t_ ruined everything between them, by actually admitting to wanting to discipline Peter and letting Peter let him do it. 

Wanda had told him that his rules and expectations have Peter structure and made him feel safe, but what if Peter was just trying to make _them_ feel better? It was exactly the kind of thing that Peter would do - had done, even.

All of the speculation was useless, however. He couldn’t be sure unless he talked to Peter himself.

Peter wasn’t in his room, nor was he in the library. Stephen remained calm, reminded himself that there was surely no way that Peter would be so defiant as to take off without a word after the previous night. Determined to not hunt him down, Stephen simply asked Cloak if it would help him find Peter. The relic had a soft spot for the boy, much like its master.

Cloak led him to the door that would take one up to the roof of the Sanctum. Then it gave him a shove as if to say “don’t fuck this up” before floating off and leaving him alone. Far more nervous than a man his age should have been, Stephen opened the door and went up to the roof.

Peter sat at a table Stephen hadn’t realized was even on the roof. He had his laptop open and was typing steadily. He wore headphones and was mouthing along to whatever song he was listening to. He would have looked normal, if not for the air of resignation around him.

“You can sit down, you know,” Peter said without looking at him. He continued to type on his computer. “Standing there is just putting me on edge.”

Wordlessly, Stephen walked over and sat in the chair across Peter.

Peter held up a finger as if to say “just a moment.” He continued his typing before stopping and shutting the laptop. He took off his headphones and pressed pause on his phone. Then he gave Stephen his full attention.

“I think we need to talk about last night and what it means for us,” he said.

Stephen was taken aback. He hadn’t thought that Peter would be so forward about it. He was also a little proud of Peter for it; he wasn’t the kind to run from his problems. “We do.”

“Are you still mad at me? For last night?”

“No,” Stephen said. “I told you that after your punishment everything would be forgiven. It has been.”

“That doesn’t mean a person won’t still be angry,” Peter pointed out.

Stephen couldn’t fault Peter for his thinking. Grudges and grievances weren’t the sort of things a majority of people let go of easily. He’d heard many a squabble at the hospital from nurses, doctors, or technicians who would bring up something from months or even years prior in order to make a point or cut the other person down. His time in school hadn’t been any different, he recalled.

“I’m not,” Stephen said simply. “And I'm never going to lie to you.”

Peter was quiet, studying him. He had no idea what the boy was thinking and he hated that he was so helpless in this situation.

“You really mean that,” Peter said finally. “Both things you just said.”

“I do.”

Peter nodded, accepting that. “Then I guess my next question, is what is it you want from me?”

Stephen closed his eyes. “That is a very loaded question, Peter.”

“Does that mean you won’t answer it?” Peter asked.

“It means that I can’t answer it. Not right now.” He opened his eyes to see Peter watching him thoughtfully.

“Do you know when you’ll be able to answer it?”

Stephen nearly groaned. But, he couldn’t be anything but honest. “For your sake, most likely not until you’ve graduated. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I can’t be the person who keeps you from something so important.”

Peter nodded, as if that was the response he’d been expecting. He motioned to his computer. “I finished all of my homework that’s due before I graduate. There’s nothing left for me to do aside from take my final exams and show up smiling to get my diploma on the day.”

“That’s good,” Stephen said, unsure of where Peter was going with this.

“I think I’m going to move back in with Aunt May.”

Stephen’s heart nearly stopped. He could feel the blood draining from his face, against his will. _No. Please, no._

“It’s not what you think!” Peter rushed to reassure him. “Like, not permanently. But you need space while you figure out what it is you want, and so do I.”

Peter leaned back in his chair. He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked back up at Stephen. "I’m not, I don’t know, angry or whatever about last night. I could have said no and I could have said ‘red.’ I didn’t. 

“But I don’t know what it means, exactly, aside from a few vague google searches I ran this morning which seemed to direct me to some very awkward videos. So I guess I’m just confused and you don’t have an answer and maybe I just need to be able to think about it all away from here.”

Stephen heard the _away from you_ that Peter might have meant.

“I didn’t mean away from _you_ ,” Peter said after Stephen remained quiet. “But maybe it would be good to talk some place and some time where we’re on even footing, I guess?” Peter shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”

“No, you do,” Stephen allowed, grateful for how perceptive Peter could be. “I never wanted to push you away.”

“You didn’t,” Peter insisted. Then he gave a little laugh. “Not everything is about you.”

Stephen had to laugh as well. The Ancient One was probably smirking at him from the great beyond or wherever it was her spirit had gone to. _It’s not about you,_ she’d said to him. It seemed as though it was still a lesson he needed to learn.

“Have you spoken with May?” he asked.

Peter nodded. “She thinks I’m wanting to spend time with her before I graduate and go off superheroing full-time. And she’s not wrong,” he added, when Stephen started frowning. “I didn’t lie to her! I just didn’t tell her about what happened last night.”

Stephen was grateful for that. He didn’t think that when May entrusted Peter to his care, she was including putting Peter over his lap and spanking him for misbehaving.

“When are you wanting to leave?” He wanted to beg Peter to stay, to not leave him. He wanted to say that last night would never happen again, that it was a fluke, but he didn’t think he could make that a promise.

Peter shifted in his chair. “Um, could we just move my things today? Since my homework is done and there’s nothing else I have to do?”

This was happening so fast. It was like the times he’d tried to keep the waves on the beach from stealing the sand beneath his feet as a child, convinced that if he just dug his heels in harder, it would stop. But it hadn’t worked then, and he knew it wasn’t going to work, now.

“Of course,” Stephen said. “I’ll be happy to help. Do you want to take everything back with you, or just the essentials?”

“The essentials, I guess,” Peter said easily. “Like I said, it’s not permanent.”

Stephen stood. “I’ll be in my study when you need me, alright? Make sure you eat something for lunch.” He left, abruptly, not looking back at Peter, feeling a bit like a coward but he needed to get _away_.

When he was in his study he brushed off Cloak and went into the Mirror Dimension. He conjured items just to break them, letting his emotions rule him until he collapsed against a wall, panting. He couldn’t help but feel that despite Peter’s assurances, it _was_ because of him that Peter was leaving.

When he finally had a grip on himself, felt as if he could leave the dimension without appearing like a crazed lunatic, he did. He couldn’t wallow in self-pity or doubt; Peter needed his support. And, Stephen had promised himself that he’d take care of Peter.

“Welcome back.”

Stephen turned around to see Wanda sitting in one of the chairs, book in hand. She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he’d been doing. It was tinted with sympathy and understanding.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him.

“Did you know?” He asked as he all but collapsed into his chair.

Wanda shook her head. “I’m as taken aback as you are.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose I am not as good at reading people as I think. Or, I’m more skilled than I thought at teaching people to shield their minds.”

“It could be both,” Stephen offered, smiling slightly at the playful glare she gave him. Then he sighed and let himself slouch in his chair and rubbed at his eyes with a hand. “I still can’t help but feel like this is my fault. I shouldn’t have let myself get so involved, let alone do what I did.”

“You love him,” Wanda said. “It’s not something you can control.”

“But it’s so unfair to him,” Stephen admitted. “How could he or anyone understand? I lived through millions of timelines with him, Wanda, millions. Sometimes as friends, some as enemies with grudging respect for each other, some where we were lovers and so, so happy before… before.” So many lifetimes where they’d pushed Thanos back, only for him to return and bring hell upon everyone who had dared to defy him.

“You’ve never told him this?”

“How am I supposed to start that conversation, exactly?” Stephen asked in return. “Hello, Peter. I know we only knew each other for a few short hours before we both died and them came back in the middle of a war that was ended by your hero sacrificing himself, but when I was looking through timelines to find a solution, I fell in love with you so many times and now I can’t help but still be in love with you and want to take care of you in every way I can possibly think of?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you should tell him,” Wanda offered. “I told you, he adores you.”

“Not enough to stay,” he muttered.

“Stephen.” Wanda really did have the worst ability to chastise him. It reminded him of Christine, at times. And just like Christine, he both loved and resented her for it… weighing much heavier on the loved side of things.

“If I tell him now, it will just look like I’m trying to guilt him or coerce him into staying,” Stephen said. “And he asked me what I want from him.”

“It’s a fair question,” Wanda pointed out.

“It is,” he agreed. “It’s essential, to everything. But I don’t have a coherent answer right now.”

“And when you do have the answer?”

Stephen sighed. “We’ll talk. And what happens, happens, I suppose.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Wanda advised. “You love him, and while I don’t know if I would call it love just yet, Peter does care for you. Have a little faith in the universe, Stephen.”

Stephen thought about her words. He wanted to believe, he really did. “I hope you’re right.”

From up in his perch on the staircase nearest Stephen’s study, Peter could only sit, stunned at what he’d heard.


	4. Chapter 4

****

**4.**

* * *

  
Peter had been back living at his aunt’s apartment for one week, which meant he had only one week of school left. Then graduation would be the following Sunday. And then… then he didn’t know. Stephen just didn’t know.

In the week Peter had been gone, he’d seen him once, and that had been a situation where he and Wong had seen the battle on an old tv while they were grabbing a sandwich at the local deli. They’d dropped their uneaten food on the table they were going to sit at and portaled to the parking lot where Spider-Man was fighting alongside someone who was moving… in and out of the realm like a ghost.

They’d managed to help get the threat contained, though Peter and the ghost-person mostly had it under of control before they arrived. Peter gave Wong a cheerful greeting afterwards and Stephen watched with interest as the ghost-person nodded at the trio and then walked off, phasing in and out of reality as they went.

“Thanks, Ghost!” Peter called after them with a wave.

“Are you alright?” Stephen asked Peter.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good! She and I had things under control, but thanks!” And honestly, Stephen could admit that they _had_ had it under control. That didn’t mean he should have walked away when he’d realized it.

“She?” Wong asked. “Is that the new friend you were telling me about?”

Wong had talked with Peter? When?

Peter nodded, his suit’s mask covering up what was surely an eager expression. “Yeah, she’s great.” He was also very carefully not saying her name, given the small crowd of people standing around and filming them.

“I’ve never seen anything like her,” Stephen commented. “Do you need a hand back to where you were before this started?”

Peter shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. I was running some errands when my Spidey-sense went crazy. It’s all good.”

“We had better get back to where we were,” Wong said firmly. “With any luck, our food is still on the table and untouched.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Peter said. “Good luck!” He gave both Stephen and Wong something of a salute, and then shot up a web and slung his way off.

The sandwiches were gone when they returned to the deli, but a nice old lady insisted on buying them replacements. Stephen was about to refuse but Wong was quick to thank her. He was very gracious about it, as well.

“You need to relax, Strange,” Wong told them, as he sat across from him at one of the many open tables outside of the deli.

“So I’ve been told,” Stephen said blandly. He didn’t have much of an appetite. Peter was gone and apparently talking with Wong and not him.

Wong gave him an exasperated look as he bit into his own sandwich. He took his time chewing before finally swallowing and wiping his mouth. “He’s allowed to talk to people who aren’t you.”

“I know that,” Stephen said, a little too quickly.

“Do you?” Wong asked.

Stephen sighed. “My biggest fear is that he’s going to decide he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. And not seeing him or hearing from him just makes it worse.”

“Have you tried calling him?” Wong asked patiently.

“No,” Stephen said, feeling like an idiot.

“Maybe you should try,” Wong advised.

Wong had a point, Stephen knew. The man usually did. And he couldn’t exactly be upset that Peter reached out to him; Wong was one of his teachers as well.

“What if he doesn’t pick up?” Stephen couldn’t seem to shake his inner pessimist.

“Then at least you know he’s not ready to talk to you outside of work.”

There was that, Stephen supposed.

The Sanctum itself seemed to feel Peter’s absence. Lights seemed a little dimmer. Relics that usually called to a body to admire them were stagnant and stale. Even Stephen’s study lacked the warmth it had taken on when Peter had moved in.

Wanda’s return to Kamar-Taj didn’t help.

It was just Stephen in the building, along with Wong who only stayed a couple of days at a time.

He busied himself with traveling between the Sanctums and Kamar-Taj, meeting with the masters and students at each location. The Hong Kong Sanctum was teeming with activity, several students having been assigned to clean the building without the mystic arts. They were in high spirits, however, laughing and joking as they worked. 

Master Lin was supervising, and she jokingly held out a rag when she saw Stephen. “Have you come to help?”

Stephen quirked a brow. “I’ve served my time in the trenches, thanks. Both as a medical resident and as a student at Kamar-Taj.”

Master Lin laughed. “And I’m sure you took no shortcuts, either.”

Stephen shrugged, but smiled. “I’ve always been a ‘work smarter’ kind of guy.”

“So I’ve seen,” Lin agreed. “How fares our Peter? We’ve not heard from him lately.”

Stephen’s smile dimmed, but he answered anyways. “Peter’s moved back in with his Aunt until he graduates high school after next week.”

“He’s such a nice young man,” Lin commented. “Very responsible and very driven. I was impressed when I saw his work in creating portals that day at Kamar-Taj. He picked it up very fast. The Ancient One had to abandon me in the Everglades, surrounded by alligators, to have the lesson sink in.”

Stephen laughed out loud at that. “I was stranded on Mt. Everest,” he admitted.

“It was a favorite form of motivation of hers,” Lin said.

“It was sick,” Stephen argued.

“I never said it wasn’t,” She agreed. “I’ve been speaking with some of the other masters at Kamar-Taj and London. We would like to have some kind of get-together to celebrate Peter’s accomplishment. We’re all very fond of him.”

Stephen nodded. “I think he would appreciate that.”

He asked to be informed of what the set-up would be, and then used the Sanctum’s inner chamber to travel between Kamar-Taj and New York.

When he was home, alone, he found himself roaming the Sanctum aimlessly, followed by Cloak. He checked the kitchen and found nothing he wanted to make. In the end he left for a night out, deciding to pick a random movie and indulge in unnecessarily drenched-in-fake-butter popcorn and an oversized soda.

He could still enjoy normal things like a normal person, surely.

(He left the movie 45 minutes in; picking a medical movie had been a mistake. He counted no less then 15 blatant errors in the first five minutes.

He didn’t let himself acknowledge that he would have enjoyed the movie a lot more if Peter had been with him.)

The second week Peter was gone, Stephen was called away by Thor to help contain a matter in another realm. He spent two weeks in Vanaheim. When he was able to return to the Sanctum, distressed that he’d missed Peter’s graduation, he found that only a few hours had passed in his absence.

The rest of the week he spent catching up with the translations of texts he’d been putting off. It was an ongoing project some of the students at Kamar-Taj had suggested. While the original language was important to have (and in most cases, necessary), a translation so the practitioner knew _exactly_ what they were getting into would be helpful. The fine print, so to speak. He had a grouping of texts to translate, and other students and masters did as well.

It was, for the moment, just busy work. It served to take his mind off of Peter since there was no room for error in the translations. One wrong word and a person would summon an inter-dimensional carnivorous plant instead of the desired non-murderous plant. It was tedious work, but it got the job done.

When his phone rang, however, he scrambled to check who it was - Peter! - and answer it.

“Hello?” His hands were trembling, and he did his best to still them. It wouldn’t do to drop his phone.

“Hey! May wanted to know if you were free for dinner tonight,” Peter asked.

Stephen’s spirits dropped; Peter wasn’t calling because he really wanted to talk. He was a messenger between May and Stephen. What… what if he’d told May? What if the dinner was to tell Stephen that actually, Peter moving out _was_ permanent?

“Stephen? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Stephen answered. He didn’t sound like himself; he needed to fix that.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked.

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” That was a little better, he thought.

“O-okay. So, um, dinner? Tonight? May’s really hoping you can come.”

“Of course,” Stephen said. “I just need to know when and where.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. Um, it’s a place called Shasta’s. It’s on Union Turnpike.” Peter sounded a little off, too.

“I’ll find it,” Stephen assured him. “And what time shall I meet you there?”

“Will seven o’clock work? May gets off shift at 6 and then we’ll meet you there.”

“I’ll be there,” Stephen promised. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He’d take any chance to see Peter that he could get. Even if they would have a semi-chaperone for the meeting. And May really was a wonderful, lovely woman.

“Great!” Peter exclaimed; voice far more cheerful than Stephen had heard it in a while. “I’ll see you then!”

“Have good rest of your day.” Stephen ended the call, mind already working to determine the most likely reason for the invitation, the conversation topics and answers he should have prepared.

It was ridiculous, he knew, trying to plan for how something as simple as a dinner would go. But it was as if he couldn’t stop himself. He needed certainty, he needed… he needed control.

Shasta’s was a nice little restaurant in Queens that Stephen had never been to. When he’d looked up reviews online to deal with the boredom of his translation work, he’d found most comments to be glowing with praise. It seemed to be doing steady business on a Wednesday evening.

Stephen was early to the restaurant. He’d had to send the waitress away a couple of times before Peter and his aunt arrived. He stood and pulled the chair out for May, then helped seat her. Peter took the seat across from Stephen.

The waitress rushed over when Stephen caught her eye, obviously pleased to _finally_ be serving Stephen, though her smile dimmed a bit when she realized that he was with guests. She took their drink orders and promised to be back right away with two more menus.

“She didn’t seem to like us at all,” May commented, amused, when the waitress quickly returned to drop off the menus.

“She has terrible taste, clearly,” Stephen said. “I’m delightful.”

Peter laughed out loud at that and something in Stephen lightened. If Peter was in good spirits, then surely there was nothing for Stephen to worry about. May asked after Wanda and Wong and Stephen assured her that both of them were very well and looking forward to seeing her at Peter’s graduation that upcoming Sunday.

Their drinks arrived and they gave their orders to the waitress, who tried - and failed - to engage Stephen in some flirtation. Peter, Stephen couldn’t help but notice, was scowling at her.

“Peter?” May asked. She’d apparently noticed as well. “Are you okay?”

Peter snapped his attention to his aunt, expression relaxing. “Yeah, she was just being a bit rude.” He shrugged. “So, are you going to tell us what this is all about?”

May took a drink of her Pepsi and then looked at them. “Well, I asked you both out to dinner because I have some important news. I’ve been given a promotion at work.”

“What?!” Peter cried; his face lit up with happiness. “That’s so great!”

“That’s wonderful news,” Stephen agreed. “Congratulations.”

“There’s actually more to it,” May continued. “The promotion would mean that I have to move to the main office in Syracuse. They’ll provide lodging until I find a place to live up there.”

Peter nearly spit out the soda he’d been drinking. He set the glass down on the table and without a word, pushed his chair away from the table and stormed off.

“Peter!” May called.

“I’ll go after him,” Stephen offered. “Don’t worry.”

Peter was pacing up and down the nearest alley. His hands ran through his hair as he shook his head. Stephen was torn between wanting to comfort him and wanting to spank him for being so rude to his aunt. He was going to have to settle on comfort, he knew, with the way things were between them at the moment.

“Peter?” he called. Peter continued to move. “Look to me.” Stephen’s voice left no room for argument.

Peter stopped pacing and looked at him. His shoulders slumped, and he started walking towards him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why?” Stephen asked. “Why are you sorry?”

Peter muttered something.

“I didn’t catch that,” Stephen said. “Want to try again?”

“I’m sorry for running out on dinner like that,” Peter said. “It was a dick move.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said. “I’m not the only one you need to apologize to.”

Peter hung his head. “Everything just seems to be changing so fast.”

“That’s not an excuse for storming out on your aunt the way you did.”

“I know,” Peter admitted. “But I was worried that if I didn’t, I’d say something that I’d regret even more.”

Stephen could understand that; it was a bad situation to have to deal with. “Do you think you can come back inside so we can all talk and have our dinner?” he asked.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, and I need to apologize anyways. For running out on May like that.”

“Good boy,” Stephen told him. “C’mon, let’s go back.” Stephen escorted Peter out of the alley, hand on his lower back… both to comfort and to keep him from running. When they approached their table, Stephen told him he would use the restroom while Peter apologized. He was going to keep out of it but couldn’t resist stepping into the Mirror Dimension so he could observe, undetected.

Peter sat back down in his chair, scooted closer, and leaned his head against May's shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry for acting like such a jerk and running out like that. I’m happy for you, I promise.”

“Oh, Peter,” May said, wrapping her arm around him. “I know you are, alright? It’s okay.”

“It’s not though,” Peter said, pulling back to look at her. “This is a big deal, and you’ve worked so hard to earn it.”

“I know, it would be a big change, which is why I haven’t said yes, yet.”

Stephen knew then why May had asked he be there that evening. He left the Mirror Dimension and washed his hands before leaving the restroom and rejoining them.

“I don’t want to make a decision like this without taking your thoughts into account, Peter,” May was saying. “And if you don’t want to move, I understand.”

Peter shook his head. “I can’t be selfish and keep you from this,” he said. “You earned this! You’ve worked so hard and given up so much to take care of me.”

“It’s a fantastic opportunity,” she admitted. “And I know, Peter, that you’d move with me without complaint, even though you love living here. I can’t make your decisions for you, since you’re eighteen, but if you decided to stay here, I’d feel better knowing that you were living in a safe place.”

“If you wanted to stay in the city, the Sanctum is open to you, Peter,” Stephen said. He looked at May. “I have a feeling that’s why you wanted me here. Am I right?”

May nodded. “It worked out so well, after... after everything that happened.” She reached over and put her hand on Peter’s. “I know you moved back to spend more time with me, and I’m so happy you did.”

“But you have your own life to live,” Peter said.

“It won’t be a goodbye, Peter,” May assured him. “It really won’t. You’ll have a room there and will always be welcome if you decide to move in.”

“When do you have to give them an answer?” Stephen asked.

“Mr. Weston asked for a response by this Friday.”

The waitress brought their food along with their check and, to her credit, seemed to have gotten the hint that Stephen wasn’t interested. It didn’t stop Peter from glaring at her again, which Stephen couldn’t help but appreciate.

They enjoyed their food, chatting about May’s promotion and the logistics of moving four hours upstate. They talked about Peter’s graduation that coming Sunday and the various parties his classmates were sure to be having. Peter didn't have much to say about the partied, but when Stephen mentioned the gathering that everyone at Kamar-Taj wanted throw for him, Peter nodded eagerly. “May can come too, right?” he asked Stephen.

“Of course,” Stephen said. "We wouldn’t dream of keeping her from celebrating your graduation with us.

May’s phone suddenly rang. She gave them an apologetic “It’s work.” and motioned for Peter to scoot his chair away a bit so she could push her own back. He did and she went outside as she answered the call.

“Can we talk?” Peter asked Stephen.

“Always,” Stephen answered. “Whatever you need.”

May came back in a hurry. “I’m sorry, but I have to go in.” She looked at Stephen. “Can you?”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safely,” Stephen assured her. And then he waved her off when she reached into her purse. “I’ll take care of it,” he insisted.

“I’ll talk to you later, Peter,” May said, kissing on the top of his head. “Thank you,” she said to Stephen. Then she rushed out.

“She works too hard,” Peter said, idly twirling his fry in ketchup. “At least the promotion will mean more benefits and a switch to salary.”

That didn’t necessarily mean she wouldn’t be working just as hard, if not harder, Stephen knew. But he couldn’t bring himself to inform Peter of that. Instead, he simply kept his mouth shut on the subject. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked instead.

“Oh, right. Can we leave, first?” Peter was fidgety, which experience had taught Stephen to understand that he was nervous about what was weighing on his mind.

“Sure.”

They stood and Stephen left a fifty on the table - more than enough to cover the meal and well beyond a twenty percent tip. He escorted Peter out of Shasta’s the same way he led him in after the boy’s outburst. They strolled towards Pond Park, unconcerned with the world rushing by around them. When they reached the park, they found a quiet area with a bench and sat down.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Stephen asked, giving Peter his undivided attention.

Peter hesitated; Stephen could practically feel the conflict radiating off of him. “You can tell me anything, Peter, I promise.”

Peter nodded. Then, he seemed to steel himself before meeting Stephen’s gaze.

“How long have you been in love with me?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer one. There was no place where I felt right stopping.

****

**5.**

* * *

Peter really did have the most amazing ability to render him speechless, Stephen briefly thought once the pounding sirens in his head stopped.

Peter knew. Fuck his life, Peter _knew_.

"It's a little complicated to give an exact number, considering the millions of timelines I've lived through. But I suppose the easiest answer would be to say that I've been in love with you for lifetimes."

Peter nodded. "Okay, yeah, that checks out."

Stephen had a funny feeling that Peter wasn't referring to his Spidey-sense. No, he was being far too direct for it to be caused by the almost-supernatural prescient ability he'd been gifted with. Peter, somehow, _knew_.

And it was most likely the Spider-sense that let him know how intensely Stephen was thinking about him, mind racing through scenarios of how Peter could have come across such knowledge.

"I heard you and Wanda talking," Peter admitted. "That day when I moved home? I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I swear!" he rushed to say. "I really wasn't! But my hearing is really, really good and I heard my name and I wanted to walk away, I really did, but you sounded so miserable and I hated it, so I stayed and listened so that I could maybe find a way to fix it, but nothing was coming to me because I was still so confused and just..." he broke off, drawing in a couple of deep breaths. "I'm sorry," he said.

Well, that explained a lot. And while Peter's excellent hearing wasn't his fault, he knew that what he had done was wrong, if his adamant apology was anything to go by. So. (And yes, he _was_ a hypocrite for being upset with Peter for eavesdropping when he himself had done the same thing that evening. Claims of his perfection were only slightly exaggerated.)

"That's not the way I wanted you to find out," Stephen said, in lieu of taking Peter to task.

"So, you _would_ have told me?" Peter asked.

"Yes, once you were out of school and there was less of a power imbalance," Stephen said. "I had so many things I wanted to tell you."

"So, tell me now!" Peter insisted eagerly. "I'm done on Sunday - what's a few days?"

"I can't," Stephen said.

"You can't or you won't?" Peter was dogged in getting what he wanted; Stephen would have to curb that.

"Pick whichever helps you sleep best," he answered flippantly, feeling anything but. "Sunday. After your graduation and parties, I'll tell you everything." Even if it meant scaring Peter off.

Peter sat back on the bench with a huff, arms crossed and pouting. "This is so unfair," he muttered under his breath.

"Would you like to run that by me again?" Stephen asked.

Peter glared at him. "I said that this is so unfair."

"Life's not fair," Stephen said flatly. "Something you and I know very well. And even if life was fair, you still don't get to be upset because you heard a conversation that wasn't yours to hear."

Instead of looking ashamed, Peter rolled his eyes and _oh_ , Stephen hated when he did that - and Peter knew it.

"You're really testing my patience at the moment," Stephen said. "But that's what you're trying to do, isn't it?" He knew so many of Peter's tells; it was only his damned determination to not manipulate him into a relationship that kept him from exploiting them.

Peter only huffed again. "Maybe. Why? Going to put me over your knee again?"

Stephen smiled thinly. "I didn't put you over my knee; you did that on your own. I gave you every chance to walk away and you didn't. Even halfway through, you had an out and didn't take it. But to answer your question, no. I would never do that while I'm angry with you."

Peter looked at him appraisingly. "You don't look pissed," he said.

"I've lived millions of years, Peter. I've had practice hiding emotions." And at that moment, he felt millions of years old. The Sorceror Supreme, laid low by a moody, beautiful, brilliant, infuriating twink of a boy.

Something shifted in Peter's eyes. Stephen saw flashes of fear, curiosity, wonder, awe, and... _arousal_. "What about when you're not pissed at me anymore?"

"Then I would be more than happy to spank your ass red," Stephen answered. "If you feel that it's what you deserve."

"What if it's just what I want?" Peter asked.

"That's a discussion we'll have to have after Sunday," Stephen said.

Reluctantly, Peter nodded. "Yeah, yeah okay." He heaved a sigh. "You've got my head all turned around," he confessed.

Stephen couldn't help but chuckle. "I can't exactly say I'm sorry for that."

"You get to know how you feel," Peter said. "You know basically everything about me, and I know next to nothing about you."

"And after Sunday I'll tell you whatever you want to know," Stephen promised.

Peter gave him an imploring look, one that said he'd shatter if Stephen didn't. "I hope so."

Stephen walked Peter home to his Aunt's apartment and then portalled back to the Sanctum. He sent May a message to let her know that Peter had arrived home, safe. And then he collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he contemplated how everything seemed to be spinning so precisely out of his control.

Peter now knew that Stephen's care of him, of protecting him, hadn't been from the goodness of his heart - not entirely, at least. Peter knew that Stephen felt far more deeply for him than he'd ever allowed himself to demonstrate. And he also knew, that for some reason he'd no doubt ask about after graduation, Stephen had certain... proclivities around obedience where Peter was concerned. And wasn't that going to be a fun explanation?

In an increasingly not-rare moment of self-pity, Stephen rolled over and buried his face in a pillow. He felt Cloak pat his shoulder and sighed. "Yes, I know I'm being ridiculous," he said, lifting his head briefly.

In response, Cloak settled itself over Stephen like a blanket and Stephen drifted off to sleep.

The blaring of his phone woke him up. When he checked it, he saw that it was nearly eleven in the morning and Pepper Potts-Stark of all people was calling him.

"Hello?" He asked, dragging himself out of bed.

"Am I calling at a bad time, Stephen?"

"No, not at all," Stephen said. He had the utmost admiration for Pepper.

"Good. I have some gifts for Peter. Tony, he... he'd gotten them for him years ago, in case Peter ever came back. Stuff that Peter would get when he turned 18, when he graduated high school, and a few other various things."

Of course. Of course, Stark would have done that. He'd loved Peter, had maybe been a little in love with Peter in a strange sort of non-sexual way. And Peter had definitely been more than a little in love with Stark, or with the idea of him, at least.

"How can I help?" Stephen asked.

"Is Peter having any kind of party or doing anything for his graduation? I'd like to make sure he gets these. It's what Tony would have wanted."

"Yes, there's going to be an informal party at Kamar-Taj. Peter wasn't exactly interested a traditional party. He's just ready for high school to be done."

Pepper actually laughed at that. "I can imagine," she said finally. "It must be awful sitting through high school when he's secretly a superhero!"

"He's definitely not a fan at this point," Stephen agreed.

"Is there any way I can have these gifts dropped off at the Sanctum?"

"Sure, whenever is convenient for you. I can make sure he gets them here or at the gathering on Sunday."

"Thank you so much! I'm hoping to take him out to a nice dinner, when he feels up to it. I know he's had a rough year," she said.

"He's doing remarkably well, all things considered," Stephen said.

"I'm so glad you've been there for him," Pepper said. "Part of me feels like it should have been me, but I just don't know him the way Tony did."

He personally didn't think that Tony had known Peter all that well, but his personal opinion didn't exactly have a place in the conversation.

"No one blames you," Stephen assured her. "Especially Peter. You have Morgan and Stark Industries to think about."

Pepper made a sound of concession. "I'll have the gifts dropped off. And Stephen?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for all you've done."

"I haven't done much," Stephen admitted. Nothing she needed to know about.

"You've been taking care of Peter, and to Tony, that would have been everything."

They said goodbye and hung up.

Thursday passed in a blur one he finally made himself prepare for the day. He ended up helping Wong in the library at Kamar-Taj, taking instruction and sorting according to the librarian's preferences. It became its own little ritual, picking out a book, reviewing it, and ensuring it was in the proper place. The proper place could have something to do with the phase of the moon, or what dimensional energy would be more present during a particular month. It was forever changing, and Wong had the most amazing ability to predict and arrange.

He wasn't sure how he got through Friday and Saturday. Peter didn't call or text him. He should have reached out, but he didn't. He wasn't even sure what he could have said.

Happy Hogan delivered an assortment of gifts to the Sanctum on Saturday. Stephen didn't go through them, just helped move them into Peter's room. Happy asked after Peter, nodding when Stephen explained that he was home to spend more time with May before graduation and her coming move across state.

"He's a good kid," Happy said. "I wish I would have given him more a chance before, you know?"

Stephen didn't know; he couldn't imagine not being completely taken with Peter, with his intelligence and humor and eagerness to help and... and _goodness_. He was more grateful than he could express for Happy's helping Peter during that disastrous trip of his. But his treatment of Peter before that? Peter might have forgiven, maybe even forgotten, but Stephen certainly hadn't. He wasn't a good person like Peter was.

"It's good when we can recognize our mistakes," Stephen said.

Happy did a double take at his words. "I'm not proud of it, okay?" he said. "But he proved me wrong." He looked around the room, still decorated with posters and action figures. His gaze fell on the picture of Peter with Tony. "He proved everyone wrong."

 _Not me,_ Stephen thought. _I never doubted him._

Happy pulled a card out of his inside jacket pocket. He put it on the bed, separate from the other gifts. Then he glanced at Stephen, who led him out of the room and back down to the entrance of the Sanctum.

"I uh," he said as he turned to leave. "I'm glad he has you looking out for him."

Stephen merely nodded and closed the door once the man was gone.

Sunday morning came and Stephen, already awake before his alarm blared, was ready hours before Peter was due to walk.

He heard noise elsewhere in the Sanctum. Wanda and Wong had arrived. With a sigh, Stephen made his way to the kitchen where he was sure they would be. He could tell they were both excited, if Wong's laughter and the brief flashes of Wanda's red magic floating around the rooms were anything to go by.

Wanda had a cup of tea and a muffin ready for him and Wong had helped himself to the bacon and eggs that had been in the fridge. They joked around, Stephen relaxing with their presence. It was almost like before, only Peter was missing.

Depending on how his talk with Peter went that evening, it might always be a case of Peter being absent.

Stephen portalled to May's apartment and brought her back to the Sanctum. She'd been a few times, but never stayed overly long, despite Stephen's offer of a guest room.

They took an Uber to the school, where Peter had been for a little over an hour. In deference to the occasion, Wanda and Stephen were wearing a dress and suit, respectively, and Wong was in a set of elegant robes.

"I don't know why I feel so nervous," May said as they exited the car.

"It's a big moment for Peter," Wong advised. "And for you, as his caretaker. Change is coming; it's natural to feel nervous."

May shot him a grateful look.

Stephen escorted May into the school's gymnasium while Wanda and Wong followed. They were waved down and sat next to Ned's family and were shortly joined by other families who were filing in.

May conversed with Mrs. Leeds while Wong and Wanda spoke quietly. Stephen studied the program he'd been given, pleased to see that Peter was the Valedictorian for the class, followed by a young lady named Betty Brant as the Salutatorian. Wanda had been correct when she'd said he was top of his class.

When the clock struck noon, the gym quieted, and the traditional song began to play as the students processed in. Peter was at the front, cords draped over his gown. May reached over and grabbed his hand as Peter and Betty sat with the rest of the students. He squeezed it, ignoring the pain as he did so.

The administration had their speeches, and introduced their guest speaker, Dr. Hank Pym. Stephen didn't know much about the man, but he instantly won everyone over with his opening quip "It's been a while since I've been asked to do this, so I asked my daughter for advice. She said, 'don't make them listen to you for long - they don't care.' So, I'll try to keep this short and sweet." He gave a nice speech that wasn't full of empty platitudes, but sincere empathy for the hardships Peter's class had faced and encouragement for them moving forward.

Then Peter was introduced as Valedictorian and he got up. He took his place on stage behind the podium and looked out at everyone.

"I'm going to follow Dr. Pym's example; and keep this pretty short." He took a moment and then started to speak. "When I was fourteen years old, my Uncle Ben told me that with great power, comes great responsibility. I had a hard time understanding what he meant by that, and, four years later, I can honestly say that I _still_ have a hard time understanding.

"Growing up, facing the things we've faced, like alien invasions, superheroes, one epic disaster after another, the Snap, and the Blip, it's hard to see how we have any kind of power at all. Except we're still here, so that has to mean something. I don't know what the future holds, and I know that a lot of you - adults included - don't think we're ready for it.

"But you'd be wrong. Because no one has had to go through that we have or face what we've faced all while navigating the hell of high school _and_ hormones. I don't know what our responsibilities are going to be once we leave high school, but I think it's safe to say that the future isn't ready for _us_."

There was an uproar or agreement and clapping from the students and once it died down, Peter continued, sharing various pieces of advice he was sure they'd all been given and providing some honestly, hilarious commentary on said advice.

"I could stand up here and keep going, but I think I've made my point and I'm trying to beat Dr. Pym for time. So, I'll just leave with this: We're living, we occupy space, and we have mass. So basically, we matter."

Many of the students groaned loudly while others laughed. Peter just smiled and returned to his seat.

Presenting the diplomas was thankfully quick, and Stephen joined May, Wong, and Wanda in standing up to clap when Peter's name was called, and he walked across the stage to shake the principle's hand and receive his diploma. When that part was through, he and Betty stood and turned around to face the rest of the students. The moved their tassels from one side to the other and the others followed.

"We're free!" Betty shouted, and the others cheered, Peter included. They barely got into order to process out, not even waiting for the cue to leave. It seemed that Peter wasn't the only one ready to be done.

It turned out that Peter had gone to Ned's graduation party the day before and that MJ wasn't even having one. Peter hadn't mentioned to anyone that he was having his own party; it wasn't as if anyone other than May would be allowed to visit Kamar-Taj. Not without a lot of questions.

So, the group left the reception afterwards, and took another Uber back to the Sanctum.

Peter was full of energy, joking around with Wong and Wanda and telling May how much she was going to love seeing Kamar-Taj. "It's the neatest place, May, really!"

"I'm sure I will," May said. "Are you sure you don't want to go to any other parties, Peter?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm not one for crashing," Peter said.

He hadn't been invited to any other parties; Stephen realized with a pang. Outside of MJ and Ned, Peter didn't have close friends at school. His closest friends outside of school were Wanda, Wong, and maybe that Ghost woman.

In retrospect, it was easy to see why Peter was ready to be done with it all, even forego college.

The event at Kamar-Taj was a nice little affair. Peter was greeted by many of the younger students, as well as quite a few of the older ones and various masters. They were all excited that he would have more time to spend with them now that high school was over.

May was awestruck, taking in the sights around her. While they were encouraged to not make spectacles of themselves, some practitioners got Wong's permission and gave May some demonstrations of their abilities. It was harmless stuff, like floating items and conjuring portals. She was delighted and when she asked Peter if he knew anything, he nodded.

"Show me?" she asked.

Peter looked to Stephen, who gave him a nod of approval.

Peter brought his wrists together in the beginnings of a spell that Stephen knew well. Except his web shooters began to glow and Peter shot out spelled webs. The webs connected and Peter went through the portal they created and appeared behind them.

When had Peter learned to do that? And how? But then Stephen saw the smirks that Wong and Wanda were giving each other.

"That's incredible!" May exclaimed. "Oh, my goodness, did you teach him that?" she asked Stephen.

"No, that one was definitely not me," Stephen admitted.

"We've been working on it for a while," Peter told them, motioning to his helpers.

Stephen was proud of Peter... and a little hurt that he hadn't known. Peter must have sensed it, because he turned to look at Stephen and his smile faded just a bit before he determinedly plastered it back on.

When the party wrapped up, Wong helped a tipsy May back to her apartment, with a promise to check on her in the morning. Wanda gathered up the few gifts Peter had received and sent them to his room to join the gifts Stephen had left there.

And Peter and Stephen were left alone.

"Where are we going to do this?" Peter asked.

"Wherever you feel most comfortable," Stephen answered. It wouldn't be good to have the conversation in a place where Stephen was in charge. No, they needed to meet this as close to equals as they could manage.

"I have a place," Peter said.

Stephen very deliberately removed his sling ring from its holder on his belt. He handed it to Peter. "Lead the way," he said.

They went through the portal Peter created, off to have what would probably be one of the most important conversations of Stephen's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The talk is coming. I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a chapter, this is pretty dialogue heavy.

****

**6.**

* * *

The place they arrived at nearly stopped Stephen’s heart.

Dead air, dead ground, rocks and gargantuan stones everywhere. Vast, desolate nothingness. Red and orange as far as the eye could see.

Titan.

Out of all the places he’d thought Peter might pick, this certainly had never been a consideration.

“I figured this should be the place,” Peter said. “It’s the last place where neither of us had the upper hand.”

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Stephen admitted.

Peter settled himself on one of the boulders and crossed his legs. He looked at Stephen, expression inscrutable. Gone was the jubilation of graduating and celebrating his newfound freedom at Kamar-Taj.

Stephen conjured a chair for himself, facing Peter. “I suppose the power is in your hands right now. I’ve promised that you could ask me anything you wanted once you’d graduated, and you’ve graduated. So,” he said. “Ask me whatever it is you want to ask.”

“Why was graduation the deal-breaker? I’ve been eighteen for almost a year now and I have a pretty good idea of what I want.”

“Because eighteen or not, your education was the last thing tying you to a relatively normal life and I couldn’t in good conscience pull you away from that.”

“So, it was your lame attempt to give me a chance to have ‘a normal life’?” Peter asked, using air quotes. “Because I don’t know if you’ve ever read or watched anything where that excuse is brought up, but it never works out.”

“Indeed.”

“And it’s pretty insulting, too. All it’s done is let me know that you didn’t trust me enough to know what I want.”

“I trusted you,” Stephen said quietly. “I did. It was myself I didn’t trust.”

Peter rolled his eyes and oh he hated when Peter did that. He bit back a comment, but it was difficult.

“Do you love me?”

Stephen blinked, surprised. “Yes, of course I do.”

Peter nodded. “Are you in love with me?”

His mouth went dry. How could he possibly explain it? How could he begin to express it without terrifying Peter, sending him running and screaming away?

“Stephen?”

“Yes,” he said. “Desperately. Obsessively, deeply, completely. I’m so in love with you that given the choice between saving you or the world, I’d let the world burn every time.”

Peter swallowed. “And is it me, or the other me’s that you met when you were looking through the timelines.”

“All of you, but mostly you.”

“This is so weird,” Peter whispered.

“Our lives are weird,” Stephen said.

Peter was quiet for a long time.

“Have I scared you off?”

Peter shook his head, adjusted how he was sitting. “No. I’m just thinking. I should have made a list.”

“I can get you a pen and some paper,” he offered.

Peter just gave him a look.

“Right. Take your time.”

“Did you only help me so much after Mysterio because you’re in love with me?”

“No. I would have helped you even if I wasn’t in love with you. You saved my life, and, on some level, I felt like I owed it to you.” He paused, and then decided he might as well admit it. “Not just for saving my life, but for not being able to find a way to beat Thanos without losing Stark.”

“But that wasn’t your fault,” Peter said. “Look, I hate that he did it, and I miss him like crazy, but it was his choice. It had nothing to do with you.” 

“Logically, I know that. But as a surgeon I had a perfect record. I’m not used to losing people and convincing myself that his death isn’t my fault is hard.”

“Not everything’s about you.”

“Believe me, I’ve been told that a lot lately,” Stephen said. “Still taking some getting used to.”

“You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Peter said dryly.

Well. Peter certainly was enjoying the neutral ground here, wasn’t he? If everything was already settled between them, if they were already together in all the ways he hoped for, Stephen would have a special paddle in hand and be bringing it down on Peter’s naked ass, listening to Peter’s cries as the skin bloomed red and blue bruises. Not that he didn’t love Peter’s humor and wit - just that there was a time and place.

His expression must have given him away, because Peter grinned. “Just how badly do you want me over your knee right now?”

“You’ve no idea.”

“Why is that, by the way?”

“According to my ex-girlfriend, I’ve always been something of a brat tamer, even in non-sexual ways. But the majority of my taste for it comes from a few timelines where you and I both survived the Snap. In those timelines the world changed drastically in the aftermath and some customs that had been done away with resurfaced as humanity struggled to take back control and make sense of things. It was called Domestic Discipline.”

“So, what, people got spanked for acting out?”

“Disciplined,” Stephen corrected. “In whatever ways were agreed upon by the head of the household and their charge. Our was spanking, among some other things.”

“So, you were the head of our household and I was your charge?”

“Yes.”

“Did we ever have sex?”

“Oh yes. Often.”

“Did you spank me then, too?” Peter looked genuinely curious, not as if he was trying to annoy him. And Stephen had promised…

“I did, yes. Not every time, but it happened. We kept a separation between the discipline and our sex life. Punishments weren’t ever sexual.”

“And you liked doing that to me, the discipline?”

He nodded. “I did. It suited us very well.” He relived the memories of those timelines far more often than he probably should.

“But did I actually like it? Did I even agree to any of it?”

“It was entirely consensual on both our parts,” Stephen assured him. “You enjoyed it. When we get back, I’d be happy to show you my memories of those timelines.”

“I’ll think about it.” He shifted again, as if trying to get comfortable.

“Peter, do you want me to get you a chair?”

“Will you?”

Stephen conjured a cushy chair much like his own for Peter. Peter hopped off the boulder and sat gratefully.

“Were we together in other timelines? Did we have sex?”

“Many of them, yes.”

“Did you like telling me what to do in those timelines, too?”

“I did. I’m a control freak, Peter. It’s part of who I am. I enjoy being in control, need it really.”

“And I was okay with that?” Peter wasn’t accusing him of anything, just curious.

Stephen nodded. “Yes. You enjoyed it and a lot of times you made me work for it, I’ll have you know.” He smiled at some of the memories. “I enjoyed working for it.”

“What does that mean?”

Stephen considered how he wanted to phrase it. “In some of the timelines, you wanted me to take control, because you tired of the responsibilities. But you didn’t want to admit it because you thought it made you weak. You would push me, hoping that I would react. I used to have interns who would do something similar, so I knew what was going on. Eventually I would ask you what you were expecting of me. You would say you didn’t know, and I would suggest spanking you. You seized on it. And it would grow from there.”

Peter nodded. “That kind of makes sense,” he said. “I liked it, you know? I liked what you did that night.” He looked away briefly, cheeks flushed. “It hurt, but I felt better afterwards, like I had a clean slate. What?” he asked at Stephen’s smile.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve said that to me.”

Peter looked down. “Do you even realize how unfair this feels for me? You’ve known me in millions of timelines, fell in love with me in them, even in this one. And I know pretty much nothing about you.”

“Ask me whatever you want to know. I won’t lie or hold back. I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“Where were you born?”

“I was born in Philadelphia while my mother was accompanying my father on a business trip. I was raised in Omaha, Nebraska.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

He nodded. “Two, both younger. Donna and Victor.”

“What do they do?”

“They uh, they’ve both passed. Donna drowned one summer at my family’s lake, and Vic was struck by a speeding car. I’m the only one left.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said quietly. “Losing family hurts.”

“It’s been many years,” Stephen said. “I miss them, but I’ve done my grieving.”

The air between them was quiet for long minutes. Peter was thinking and Stephen wasn’t going to rush him, not when the answers he was looking for were so overdue.

“When did you come to New York? Did you always want to live there?”

“I entered as a pre-med student at Columbia right out of high school. I knew I didn’t want to live my life in Nebraska, and New York City just seemed to speak to me. I stayed at Columbia for the rest of my schooling and completed my internships and residency at Mount Sinai and my fellowship and first attending position at NewYork Presbyterian. A couple of years later, I accepted a job at Metro General where I stayed until my accident.”

“Why did you want to be a neurosurgeon?”

Stephen sat back, shook his head. “Honestly? Because of the prestige and the accolades that I knew would come with it. It wasn’t enough for me to just be a mere doctor. I had to be extraordinary, above everyone else, take on the most complicated cases, make the most money. There wasn’t any true compassion or empathy in me, I just wanted the power that came with it.”

Peter brows were raised in surprise. “That doesn’t seem like you. You’re arrogant, sure. But you’re not some cold, self-serving robot.”

“Oh, but I was. I was a miserable excuse for a man and a lot more arrogant than I am now. I was convinced that even if my wings melted from getting too close to the sun, it wouldn’t matter because I could fix them.” He swallowed heavily. “Then my hands were ruined, and I found I couldn’t.”

“Can I ask how it happened? Your hands? It’s just, you don’t talk about it.”

It was Stephen’s turn to be quiet. He hated thinking about that damn night, how he’d been such an idiot taking his eyes off the road because he wanted to look at a case that would send his career flying even higher. He hated thinking of the months that followed, of all the bridges he’d burned.

“I was driving - speeding, really - to a speaking engagement I had for a neurological association. While I was speeding recklessly on that road, I was talking with a colleague, searching for my next successful case. I said no to one, because it wasn’t challenging enough. Another I didn’t want because I thought it was impossible and I wasn’t about to break my perfect record in the OR. I asked for something that would be worth my time. When he was describing the third possible case, it had started to rain. The third was so much more interesting than the others and I had him send me the case file.”

He looked down.

“I was looking at the x-rays when I collided with another car. The force of the collision sent my car spinning until it went off the cliff. As it tumbled down hitting fences and rocks, it was crushed like a can. My hands were on the wheel when it folded on them. They might have been salvaged but it took the rescue teams too long to find me in the water.”

He looked up at Peter and gave a weak smile. “If I ever catch you texting and driving there will be hell to pay.” 

“I don’t even know how to drive,” Peter said in an equally weak attempt at humor. “Legally, at least.”

Stephen shook his head and let out a long sigh. “I was such an arrogant jackass. And I paid for it.”

“So, you think it was what, some kind of cosmic punishment?”

“My mind goes in that direction, sometimes. I was in a bad way, afterwards. I blamed everyone but myself. I had so many surgeries to try and fix what I’d lost, went basically bankrupt because of it. Getting use of my hands back was the only thing I cared about.”

“What changed?”

“Kamar-Taj. A man recommended it, said it was where he’d learned to walk again after he’d suffered paralysis due to an accident where he worked.” Stephen could feel his lips twisting in self-disgust. “He’d actually reached out to me after his accident, hoping I could help. But I’d simply said that his injury couldn’t be repaired surgically and turned him away.”

Stephen looked upward. “I’d seen his file, Peter. What that man had accomplished was impossible - but there he was, playing basketball like he’d never been injured. I had to know how he’d done it.”

“I mocked the Ancient One to her face, when I first arrived. I couldn’t understand how she of all people in a place like that had achieved this medical miracle of helping a paralyzed man walk again. I paid for it. She blew my mind open, literally. I was sent through different dimensions and states of being. My eyes were opened, and I saw what was possible. I begged her to teach me, once I’d seen. She said no and had me thrown out.”

Peter couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter. “I can appreciate that kind of petty,” he said.

Stephen smiled wryly. “I’m glad you find it amusing.”

“Sorry,” Peter said.

“Don’t be. I was a dick about it, and she had every right to throw me out. I spent hours outside the door of Kamar-Taj, begging to be let in, in agony because I couldn’t stop myself from banging on the door. It was my last chance to fix myself, to get back the life I thought I was entitled to. It was almost midnight when Mordo let me in.”

He looked down at his hands. “The next morning, my life began. I fought it, was very condescending about it. Then when it came time to learn how to make portals, it wasn’t sinking in. I was convinced it was because of these useless things.” He held his hands up, and even now they shook ever just so. “The Ancient One told me I was wrong, and she proved it.”

Peter leaned forward, eager. “How?”

“She stranded me the top of Mt. Everest with my sling ring. Told me not to fight the magic but surrender to it.” He smirked at the memory. “I thought I was going to die. I don’t give up control easily, Peter. I never have. And yet… I had ice on my beard when I was finally able to return to her.”

“She abandoned you on Mt. Everest?” Peter asked incredulously.

“Oh yes, but it was the push I needed. From there, I learned everything I could. I taught myself, much like I’d done in college: I’d use my astral form to read and study all night long while my body slept.”

“So, did the Ancient One, like, I don’t know, just give you the Sanctum? Because you were finally taking it seriously?”

“No, the previous master of the Sanctum was murdered by a former practitioner at Kamar-Taj. This man had stolen pages from a powerful text called the Book of Cagliostro. On those pages were means to summon a powerful entity from what’s called the Dark Dimension. Kaecilius believed that if he gave himself and the Earth to Dormammu, immortality for all would be achieved.”

“That sounds so fake,” Peter said, frowning. “Honestly, what reasonable person believe that kind of promise?”

Stephen shrugged. “He’d had a very difficult life and felt betrayed to learn that some elements of the mystics arts aren’t to be practiced, especially when the Ancient One herself practiced them.”

“*That* makes sense,” Peter said with a snort. “Boo-hoo my life is so sad, and someone didn’t want me playing with fire. Let’s destroy the earth.”

Stephen couldn’t help it; he laughed. “You always have the most refreshing take on things.”

“It’s like these morons read the entire handbook of what not to do as a villain.”

“I think there’s something you’re forgetting,” Stephen said.

“And what’s that?”

“Villains rarely see themselves as such. In their minds, they’re the heroes and we’re the bad guys.”

Peter considered. Then he shrugged. “They’re still morons.” He grinned. “How’d you manage to defeat this guy?”

“I’d never been in one of the Sanctums, so I was looking around. It’s where I found Cloak.” He gave the relic a fond stroke. “And within minutes the place was attacked. Master Drumm did his best to defend it but was overpowered by Kaecilius’ zealots. I started fighting them.” He was grave as he recounted the battles. “I’d never killed before, and it took a toll on me. The most sacred oath of a doctor is to do no harm and I’d just killed a man. I wanted nothing to do with magic, I just wanted to fix my hands so I could go back to who I was.”

“So, then what?” Peter had contorted himself in the chair again, sitting in a position that would have Stephen’s body screaming in protest.

Stephen told him, the seemingly impossible bending of realities as he and Mordo tried to escape and that fateful fight mid-air. Of the battleground Kaecilius and the Ancient One had made. Of him sending her falling so impossibly far to crash on the ground, landing like a limp rag doll.

“We tried to save her, but I saw her astral form leave and I left to follow her. She was at a window, watching as snow fell. She’d slowed down time so that those few seconds could last a lifetime, just to see the snow fall. She told me that when she’d used the time stone to look into the future - her future - she’d never seen past that moment. She didn’t say it, but she’d realized that it was the moment of her death. Then she said that she’d never seen my future, only its possibilities.”

He sighed. “It was… indescribable, when she said that I had such a capacity for goodness. That my excellence in what I did wasn’t driven by desire for success, but because I feared failure. When I told her that it was why I made such great doctor, she said it was precisely the thing that kept me from greatness. That my arrogance and my fear were still keeping me from understanding the most important and simple lesson I had yet to learn.”

“What lesson was that?” Peter asked quietly. He looked as if he were about to cry. Wonderful, perfect Peter - so close to tears for Stephen’s loss of some friend he’d never even met.

“She looked at me with the faintest smile and said, ‘It’s not about you.’”

He could see the understanding in Peter’s eyes. “It’s never about us,” he whispered. “This life isn’t about us.”

Stephen nodded.

“She didn’t heal that man I mentioned - the paralyzed one. He uses the mystic arts to walk, constantly channeling dimensional energy into his legs. He could have stayed at Kamar-Taj, become a Master there, but he didn’t want that life. He left, happy with what he’d achieved. She told me I could do the same, go back to my life as renowned surgeon and that the world would be lesser for it.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I told her I wasn’t ready, and she said no one ever is.”

“It’s a leap of faith,” Peter said quietly.

“We shared some words about the upcoming fight with Dormammu, and she waxed poetic about how death gives meaning to life. The Ancient One held my hand for a moment and then… she left.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter stood and walked over to him, leaned down to hug him. Stephen let himself be held for long minutes. He’d never confided in anyone about his last meeting with the Ancient One, how much her death had hurt.

“Thank you,” he breathed out. “Just… thank you.”

“You’re allowed to feel things, Doc,” Peter said with a small smile when he pulled away. Stephen wanted to keen at the loss.

“Oh, I feel many things,” he looked at Peter directly as he sat back in the chair he’d been provided. “So much more than I have any right to feel.”

Peter shook his head. “Feelings aren’t right or wrong, they just are.”

“Perhaps,” he said vaguely. “What else did you want to ask me?”

“How did you beat that Door-guy?”"

Stephen didn’t want to say. He really, truly didn’t. That stunt still haunted his sleep, was the subject of most of his nightmares, a pain wholly separate from his hands that’s never gone away.

But he’d promised.

So, taking a deep breath, he told Peter the tale of how he’d defeated Dormammu.

When he’d finished, he felt drained. One would think that the searching through the timelines to find out how to beat Thanos would be the thing that left him raw and vulnerable. There’d been more than fourteen million timelines he’d looked through, lived, after all. But no.

Trapping himself and Dormammu in endless, repeating time, dying again and again in every horrible way possible, for thousands of thousands of what? Years? Decades? He wasn’t even sure anymore. But he’d done it, and he’d take the suffering, because earth was safe and Dormammu would never return.

Peter was back and holding him again, this time sitting on his lap. He held Stephen so tightly, so close, inhaled deeply. He heard Peter sniffle.

“I’m okay,” Stephen said, trying to reassure him.

“You’re really not.” Peter pulled back just enough to look at him. “How do you even deal with it?”

“I don’t have any other choice.”

“Does anyone else know about it?” Peter asked after they’d sat for what might have been an hour.

“Wong and Mordo know that I was in that void for longer than they experienced on earth, but not the entirety of it.”

“Do you think you’ll ever tell them?”

“I doubt it,” he admitted. “It’s not something I enjoy thinking about, let alone burdening people with.”

Peter settled into him further. “You didn’t burden me,” he said. “It’s a shame we don’t have some super-hero therapist we can talk to.”

“We wouldn’t be able to pay anyone nearly enough for that job.”

After a few minutes, Peter stood up. Stephen missed the comfort of him in his lap, the way he fit so well. He had half a mind to vanish that chair, but this wasn’t the kind of situation where he could be petty or underhanded. Too much was still at stake.

Then he noticed the change in expression on Peter’s face instantly. He’d experienced it millions of times. He knew what was coming.

“Hey Stephen?”

He sighed. Yep. Every timeline where they’d survived, without fail. “Yes, Peter?”

“You do realize that you saved earth by trolling the Door-dude, right? You basically just annoyed him so much, he gave up.”

He had no words.

“Which is a weird flex, but it worked.”

Stephen laughed, heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. Leave it to Peter to distill one of the greatest triumphs - and tragedies - of his life into such a simple fact. He’d saved the day by being an annoying dick.

“I think that might be one of the best things I’ve ever heard,” he said, still chuckling. “I also wonder if it’d ever been called Door-dude to its face.”

“Can I ask more questions?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Stephen said. “For as long as you need.” 

Peter nodded. “Okay. How many times were there, where you and I were together?”

Stephen had to think about that for a minute. Not because he didn’t know, but because his mind had been completely elsewhere.

“Two million, eight hundred seventy-five thousand and thirty-seven.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

“Those are the ones where we were romantically involved, yes.”

“That’s a lot of sex,” Peter said. “I mean, I’m assuming we had sex.”

“I already told you, we did,” Stephen assured him. “A lot.”

“What about the um, the spanking thing?”

“Same. There was plenty of that, too,” he said.

Peter offered him a shy sort of smile.

“What else?” Stephen asked. “I’m sure you have more questions for me.”

Peter seemed to be taking his time thinking. He stood up, paced. “I guess I’d just have to ask why you were so detached about it, while I was living with you and still in school. Everything you’ve told me tells me that you’re not cold, that you care so much, but at the same time, sometimes I felt like you didn’t even like me, like I was some obligation and other times I felt like you wanted me around so badly you couldn’t stand it! It’s been confusing.”

“I reversed Mysterio’s revelation and took you in to keep you safe,” Stephen pointed out, probably a bit sharper than necessary. “Of course, I care about you.”

“Right, because you fell in love with me. But you still acted like whatever went on in those timelines never happened.”

“I couldn’t act on anything from those timelines, Peter. I care too much about you to do something like that.”

“If you care so much, then why act like none of it happened?” Peter snapped. “Why didn’t you ever let on that you knew so much about me? That we’d been happy in those timelines? That we could be happy now?”

“Because I couldn’t,” Stephen said, again. His patience was wearing thin.

“What does that even mean?” Peter asked, exasperated.

Stephen stood and stepped into Peter’s space in a way he’d never let himself do in this timeline. “It means that I could have you on your knees and begging for me with a single touch, no mystic arts needed. I could completely break your spirit with a few well-chosen words. I could ruin you in every sense of the word you can think of with no effort on my part. It would be easier than breathing, Peter. Because I’ve lived all of it and I remember all of it - every moment of every timeline I searched through. My mind doesn’t get to forget; that’s the price of using the Time Stone the way I did. I have to keep it locked away, because if I let myself use any of it, then I could never trust that anything we might build in this timeline is something you truly want, that I didn’t manipulate you into wanting.”

Peter had gone pale.

“I know your greatest hopes and fears. I know how you look when you’re hurt so badly you can barely breathe and the sounds you make when I’m fucking you so hard you can’t even form words. I know what your morning breath tastes like. I know the ridiculous little dance you do whenever you get excited. I know every annoying habit you have, every way you plot and scheme to push my buttons and drive me up the wall. I know all of that and so much more. And I get to use *none* of it.”

Peter was looking at him as though he were seeing him for the first time.

He shouldn’t have snapped like that; he knows he shouldn’t have. But he’d been holding all of it in so tightly to his chest and he was so tired of pretending that he wasn’t madly in love with Peter, that he only felt indifference towards those timelines and his place in Peter’s life. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all of that,” he said finally.

“No, you should have,” Peter said quietly. “I’m glad you did! It must have been awful, keeping it all to yourself like that, when the rest of us are going about our days like nothing ever happened.”

“I can’t take advantage of you, Peter. I’m not exactly a moral man but I do have lines I won’t cross.”

“I wouldn’t think of it as you taking advantage of me, though. Alright. One last question, then,” Peter said. “And then we can go back.”

“I’m all yours.” In more ways than one. In every way Peter could ever want or hope for.

“What do you want from me?”

Stephen stepped even closer to Peter, pulled him close. He looked down into deep brown eyes that were innocent and wise beyond their years at the same time. He could drown in those eyes, *had* drowned in them.

“Everything.”

And Stephen kissed him.


End file.
